


The Last Good Thing About This Part Of Town

by ans8812



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bandom - Freeform, F/M, Heartbreak, Love, Origin Story, fall out boy - Freeform, more love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ans8812/pseuds/ans8812
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was aware of his presence, and that fact alone bothered her. Of all the boys she could be intrigued by or attracted to -- or whatever her draw to him happened to be -- why Patrick Stumph? They just met! 'Ok, technically, we have been classmates for the past five years, but he's a band geek, apparently, and I'm....what am I? The wallflower? The loner?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

            “Oh. My. God, you are _not_ gonna believe this girl I was partnered with in Chem,” Joe Trohman proclaimed as he dropped his brown bag lunch on the table then sat across from his best friend.

            “What do you mean?” Patrick Stumph stopped writing in his composition notebook and raised his head to look at Joe.

            “Ok, well, first off, apparently she’s been going to school with us since sixth grade, but I swear I have never seen her face before,” Joe dug around in his crinkly paper bag until he pulled out a red apple.

            “There are about 3,000 kids in this school,” Patrick reminded him.

            “Fine,” Joe took a big bite of the apple and chewed as he continued, “good luck trying to get to know her or, heaven forbid, do Chem labs together because I think she said, like, five words in the twenty minutes we had to uncomfortably sit next to each other and decide who was going to do what for this assignment.”

            “So she’s shy,” Patrick shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe she’ll open up a little the more you spend time together. Do you have to work on this outside of class?”

            “Yeah, probably,” Joe mumbled around another mouthful of apple then noticed that Patrick wasn’t eating anything. He usually brown-bagged it too, but there was only an open math book and composition notebook in front of him. Joe pulled the turkey and cheese sandwich from his bag and set it down on top of Patrick’s math book. “Here, man.”

            “Thanks,” Patrick’s eyes scanned the math book as his right hand copied Trigonometry problems into his notebook.

            “What’s the rush?”

            “I have a Trig test next period and I totally forgot we can have one sheet of notes. I spent, like, two hours studying last night. Then Aaron, this guy from my class, called because he was stuck one one of the graphs and he reminded me that we were allowed a sheet of notes, but by then my brain was fried so I played some guitar instead then fell asleep. I’ve been working on this thing since I woke up this morning,” Patrick took a breath and ran his left hand through his straight blonde hair, making the strands on the back of his head stick straight up. He reminded Joe of Doc Brown from _Back to the Future_ , all wild hair and big, tired crazy eyes.

            “Trick, take a five minute break, eat the sandwich, think about my problems for a minute, then you can go back to obsessing over your math test, which I’m sure you’ll do fine at,” Joe slid his hand under the cover of the Trigonometry book and slammed it closed. Patrick exhaled deeply and sat up straighter, actually paying attention to his best friend for the first time in ten minutes. He unwrapped the sandwich from its aluminum foil – Joe preferred to use aluminum foil because, he says, it’s cheaper than plastic sandwich bags and saran wrap makes food taste like plastic.

            “So this Chem lab partner of yours,” Patrick said around the bite of turkey, cheese and wheat bread in his mouth, “how’s that gonna work out?”

            “Ah, you _are_ paying attention,” Joe grinned.

            “Dude, I can listen and do homework at the same time.”

            “No, you can’t, but that’s beside the point,” Joe looked up at the clock on the far wall of the busy cafeteria. They only had about five minutes of lunch left, assuming that clock was correct. _Perfect timing,_ Joe silently congratulated himself. “This girl, though, totally inaccessible.”

            “Why do you say that?” Patrick inquired.

            “I asked her about herself, you know, what she likes, what she does on the weekends, just basic get-to-know-you stuff and she, like, completely shut me out. She was all one word answers and closed off, non-committal body language. Then, when we were leaving, I asked if she wanted to work at her house or mine and she immediately said she was busy this weekend so why don’t we get together some time after school and do it in the Chem lab. Stay after school?! Does she think I have no life?” Joe’s voice became increasingly louder and pitched up a half octave as he spoke.

            “Like I said, maybe she’s shy and turned off by your loud mouth and overbearing personality,” Patrick finished the sandwich and crumpled up the foil, tossing it toward the large garbage can at the end of the ten foot table. The foil hit the edge of the can and plopped on the floor.

            “Oh, good job, buddy, you ever think of trying out for the basketball team?” Joe teased. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and the two boys stood to leave.

            “Shut up,” Patrick glared at his friend but couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from turning up slightly.

            “Or how about hockey….or soccer....” Joe trailed off as he went upstairs to his fourth period class while Patrick braved the locker-slamming mob that was the Junior hallway to get to his Trigonometry class.

 

            Patrick and Joe had only one class together this semester; Independent Music. It was their favorite class and also the last one of the day. Patrick used the time as an opportunity to unwind from being around people all day, and Joe just loved the fact that he could play his guitar as loud as he wanted without someone yelling to keep it down. As Joe tuned his guitar, Patrick took his place behind the school band’s drum set. It was a nice enough kit, a middle of the line Ludwig, but he loved it because it was a full five-piece. At home, he only had a bass drum, one snare and a floor tom that his dad pulled out of a neighbor’s trash. It was nice to have an actual ride cymbal to keep a rhythm, and crash cymbals are not only fun to beat on but are also necessary to accent swells and musical mood changes.

            He pulled his own sticks from his backpack and tapped them twice against each drum head, then on each cymbal, while Joe plucked at each of the guitar’s strings. Every time he heard a wrong pitch, Joe screwed up his face and adjusted the pegs until he achieved the desired sound.

            “You ready to rock?” he looked over at Patrick, who shoved one stick in the air as affirmation. Patrick clicked off a four count with his sticks. Joe started in with the opening riff of Green Day’s ‘Longview’. They played through a couple older Green Day songs, then Joe switched gears to Metallica. Patrick didn’t really dig heavy metal music but he knew, if given a chance, Joe would play heavy metal all day. He claimed there was nothing more beautiful and religious than an extended screaming guitar solo. So Patrick indulged him. He played a general back beat to Joe’s melody-heavy guitar because he wasn’t familiar with the actual drum line of, well, really any Metallica song.

            They ended with a few minutes to spare before the final bell. Patrick wiped some of the sweat off his forehead with his hand and wiped his hand on his pants. Joe packed up his guitar.

            “Hey, man, do you think your mom will mind if my lab partner and I use your house instead of mine?” Joe asked, closing his guitar case and pushing the locks in place.

            Patrick furrowed his brow, “I don’t think she’ll mind, but why would you want to use my house? Yours is huge and impressive.”

            “And immaculate and intimidating and…sterile.”

            Joe had a point. His dad was a highly-esteemed cardiologist and his mom was the definition of a high class socialite. They were great people. Patrick was sure Joe was never want for love or material possessions, but they – his mom in particular – were very concerned with appearances.

            “I thought you guys weren’t getting together outside of school.” Just then, the final bell rang and the halls became busy with jostling bodies trying to get to lockers and voices calling out to find out what their friends were doing after school. Patrick and Joe decided to wait a few minutes before leaving the band room to let the chaos that was the end of a school day clear out.

            “As it turns out, she’s also in my history class and she came up to me afterwards to change our original plans because she says she has something to do tonight.”

            “Well, that’s not vague or anything,” Patrick chimed in.

            “Right, anyway, I said it’s fine, when do you want to do this thing, and she said tomorrow after school,” Joe continued. “So, I offered up your house since the band will be practicing there tomorrow night anyway. I figured we could go home with you and her and I could knock this Chem lab out before the rest of the guys get there. Then we can have the rest of the night to do whatever.”

            “Yeah, that’s fine,” Patrick slung his backpack onto his shoulders.

            “Sweet. I gotta go. I’m meeting Lindsay for a little R & R tonight,” Joe wiggled his eyebrows and grinned suggestively as he mentioned his girlfriend.

            “Get outta here, you dog,” Patrick said, motioning toward the door. The boys walked together out to their respective cars.

 

            The next day was Friday, which Patrick viewed as both a blessing and a curse. He loved the fact that it was the weekend, but he hated that he usually spent his Saturday nights alone. Friday nights were his favorite because Joe and the guys from his band came over to practice and they were cool with letting him play some of the guitar parts. Usually, Friday night band practices were also ‘No girls allowed’ in the basement. It was just the five of them, their instruments and the music. So tonight was going to be…interesting, what with Joe and his mysterious lab partner coming over right after school.

            The final class of the day ended, and Patrick immediately headed out to his car. He didn’t have any homework so there was no need to stop at his locker. He noticed Joe was already at his car, tossing his backpack into the backseat of the black coupe Grand Am. A short, dark-haired girl stood near the passenger’s side door – the elusive lab partner, Patrick presumed – but he couldn’t see her face because she was facing the car, one hand on the door handle, waiting for Joe to unlock her side of the car.

            “Oh, sorry.” Patrick heard Joe say as he pressed the unlock button on the key fob a second time. Joe wasn’t used to having to unlock both sides of his own car. He rarely drove people around. He claimed gas was too expensive and he much preferred to let someone else drive anyway. The girl got in the small car. “Patrick!” Joe called out, waving his friend over. “Hey, man! Come here and I’ll introduce you.”

            Patrick figured now was as good a time as any to find out who she was. She was going to be at _his_ house in about five minutes and his mom always taught him it wasn’t polite to just ignore people. When he was a kid, he would tell her he wasn’t ignoring them, he just wasn’t into being forced to make small talk. But she made him at least introduce himself and say hi in social situations. If Joe was any less outgoing and devil-may-care, Patrick wasn’t sure they would have ever talked to each other that day they sat down next to each other in seventh grade math. He crossed the busy parking lot to his friend and leaned down to see inside the car as Joe did the talking.

            “Patrick, my lab partner Julianna. Julianna, my best friend the guy’s whose house we’ll be invading, Patrick.”

            “Hi,” Patrick offered a shy smile and extended his hand across the driver’s seat.

            “Hi, thanks,” the girl, Julianna, shook his hand in a firm grasp, but her words were stiff and she didn’t smile. She hardly even looked at him. She was unconventionally pretty if one looked hard enough, but at first impression she wasn’t anything special. She was small and petite with long, thick, wavy dark hair that fell in her face and big brown eyes. Her whole demeanor was tense and stand-offish, as if she would defend herself at the first sign of trouble. Joe was right. She gave off an aura of inaccessability, and Patrick wondered if she had any friends at all.

            At his house, Patrick parked his car on the far right side of the two car garage. Joe pulled into the driveway behind Patrick’s car. Compared to Joe’s house, and most houses in Glenview, the Stumph residence was modest. Patrick lived with his mom and older brother and sister in a ranch-style home built in the early 1980s, with three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms, on an acre and a half of land. The basement was huge though, and the former house owners had finished it, so Mrs. Stumph told Patrick and his friends that they could use the basement for band practices and hanging out if they sound proofed it. As a thirteen year old, Patrick knew nothing about sound proofing, but his dad, a folk musician, did. So he helped Patrick and Joe section off part of the basement for a music space. They put in two walls to make a room in the far corner of the basement and made their own sound proofing panels out of styrofoam and fabric.

             It was by no means a professional studio, but the sound quality was decent, for a basement, and Patrick’s mom never yelled at them be quieter. Plus, Patrick really loved spending the time working with his dad. Joe did too. His dad was supportive of his musical endeavors but didn’t have time to spend working with his son or going to see him play, so Joe really liked being with Patrick and his dad, and he was grateful they let him hang out all the time.

            “Hey, Mom, we’re home!” Patrick called out as the trio made their way into the house through the door that connected the laundry room to the garage.

            “Hi, boys….oh, and who is this?” asked Mrs. Stumph once she saw the girl lagging slightly behind, trying to hide behind Joe’s taller frame and big, curly hair.

            “Mrs. Stumph, this is my lab partner, Julianna,” Joe answered, moving aside slightly. “Julianna, this is the sweetest, most beautiful lady in the world.”

            “Well, I won’t argue with that,” Mrs. Stumph smiled and focused her attention on Julianna. She wasn’t used to Patrick being the one bringing girls home. His older brother Kevin, a sophomore in college, had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man, but Patrick was always more timid and respectful of the opposite gender. “Hello, honey, it’s so nice to meet you.”

            “Hi, ma’am, thanks for letting us work here,” Julianna seemed to relax a little bit around Patrick’s mom.

            “Oh, it’s no problem,” Mrs. Stumph waved her hand dismissively. “Would you like something to drink? We’ve got water, of course, milk, and Patrick, sweetheart, there’s some pop out in the garage. I’m not sure what all is out there, but if it’s a Coke product we probably have it.”

            “Um, I – water is fine,” Julianna looked between Patrick and his mom.

            “I’ll get my own,” Joe announced, heading back out into the garage. He reappeared seconds later with a can of Mountain Dew and a can of Coke, which he handed to his friend, as Mrs. Stumph filled a glass with ice and water for Julianna. With drinks in hand, the three headed down to the basement.

            “So, Julianna, do you like music?” Joe asked. The wooden stairs creaked slightly under their combined weights.

            “Yeah,” Julianna shrugged. Patrick lead the way, with Joe right behind him, into the biggest basement she had ever seen. There was a navy blue sectional sofa and an old, brown burka lounger facing a 32’’ TV almost directly in the center of the room, and a turntable record player and receiver hooked up to some very large speakers against the wall to the right of the TV. A dartboard hung on the left wall, with black tape stretched across the concrete floor about ten feet back to mark the spot from where the darts were to be thrown. Beyond that, there was a room built at the back of the basement that looked like it was meant to be a practice room or music studio. She saw some drums and guitars, a keyboard and a Mac computer. The walls were padded with gray, corrugated foam and fabric-covered sound panels, and a glass door closed it all in. Obviously, these guys – well, Patrick at least – were musicians. But she did vaguely remember Joe saying something about band practice later tonight.

            “What kind of music do you like?” _Geez, this Joe guy asks a lot of questions_. Julianna sat on the burka lounger as Joe and Patrick made themselves comfortable on either end of the sectional.

            “I like just about everything,” Julianna shrugged again, hugging her backpack on her lap as if to put a shield between herself and them. She wasn’t here to make friends. She was here to do this stupid partner lab, get a decent grade and be done with these guys, especially the overly friendly, bordering-on-nosy Joe.

            “Oh, come _on_ , that’s a cop out,” Joe grinned. “You can’t tell me you like opera….or country.” He looked almost pained just saying the words and entertaining the idea that they were even considered musical genres. She just shrugged again. She didn’t necessarily care for those particular types of music, but she cared even less for Joe’s presumptuous attitude. As if he knew her or what she liked. Yeah right, and if she had her way, he never would. “Ok, what bands do you like?”

            “I don’t know,” she looked at Patrick as if to say _what is wrong with your friend? Why doesn’t he just mind his own business?_ But Patrick didn’t seem to pick up on her silent cues. And why would he? They didn’t know anything about each other except their names. Maybe if she answered his question, Joe would let them actually get to work. “I like Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Michael Jackson, The Runaways.”

            “Ah, big beats, strong melodies and powerhouse vocals,” Joe nodded as if he approved. She didn’t need or want his approval. “Nice.”

            “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but it is Friday night and, apparently, you guys have plans, so can we just get to work?” Julianna asked.

            “Um, sure,” Joe shot a sidelong glance at his friend then opened his backpack and pulled out his Chem book. The lab sheet was stuck between the pages. Julianna did the same.

            “Ok, well, I’m not needed here, so I’m gonna – well, I’ll just be back there,” Patrick grabbed his can of Coke and motioned toward the music room. He was kind of – no, he just was adorably awkward. _No!_ Julianna scolded herself silently. _You don’t care about these guys. They aren’t interested in a friendship with you. Just do your work and get out._ Much to Julianna’s surprise, Joe did manage to stay on task and they finished the entire lab by quarter after five. The entire time they worked, Patrick was back in his music room. Through the glass door, she could see him playing an electric guitar, but she couldn’t hear what he was playing through the sound proofed walls. She was aware of his presence, and that fact alone bothered her. Of all the boys she could be intrigued by or attracted to – or whatever her draw to him happened to be – why Patrick Stumph? They just met! _Ok, technically, we have been classmates for the past five years, but he’s a band geek, apparently, and I’m….what am I? The wallflower? The loner?_

            “Hey, Julianna,” Patrick said as he walked out of the music room, his gaze affixed to the floor and his hands shoved in the front pockets of his ripped blue jeans, “um, if you don’t have plans or anything, would you, I mean, you’re invited to stay and listen to our jam session.…if you want.”

            Joe shot a dirty look at his friend, then grinned as he realized it took all the courage Patrick had in him to ask that one simple question. He turned to the girl and piped in, “Yeah, you should stay. The guys will be here soon and you could let us know what songs we should keep and which ones totally suck. We’re kind of biased, so it would be nice to have a third party opinion.”

            “I mean, but you don’t have to,” Patrick quickly added when he saw the wide-eyed, shocked expression on her face. Her eyebrows drew together in a crease between her eyes as if she was actually mulling over their offer. Probably debating the pros and cons of staying to hear a bunch of rockstar wannabes play what they called music. Or she could just walk away and go about her solitary life as if Patrick and Joe haven’t been two of the kindest, sweetest guys she has ever met.

            “Boys!” called Mrs. Stumph from the top of the basement stairs, “the other boys are here.”


	2. Chapter Two

            “’K thanks, Mom!” Patrick answered.

            “So?” Joe drew out the word, his eyes shining with excitement as he rocked on the balls of his feet, his whole body humming with energy.

            “What the hell,” Julianna dropped her backpack onto the burka lounger when three older males bounded down the stairs with amplifiers, guitar cases and drums in tow.

            “Hey hey!” one of them grinned like an imp, his dark hair falling straight over his face.

            “Hey Pete,” Patrick greeted his friends, “Tim….Andy.”

            “Hey, who’s this?” the long-haired one they called Andy nodded in Julianna’s direction over the large bass drum he was hefting. The first thing she noticed about him were the colorful tattoos all up and down his arms.

            “Guys, this is Julianna,” Patrick made the introduction this time. “Julianna, this is Pete, Tim and Andy. They’re in the band with Joe.”

            “Oh my God, Patty, is this your girlfriend?” Pete blurted out, his face still pulled into that stupid, toothy grin. He was kind of cute, though, in an emo hair, guy-liner sort of way.

            “No!” Patrick protested just a little too loudly. He lowered his voice, “I mean, no, we just met.”

            “Yeah, I was just working on some homework with Joe. We’re lab partners,” Julianna said shyly. She looked at Patrick’s face and saw the blush creeping up his neck. She knew her face looked very similar.

            “Mmhmmm,” Pete said, patting his friend on the shoulder as he took his guitar case to the music room where the other guys were setting up their instruments and equipment.

            Patrick bit his bottom lip, “Look, I’m sorry about that. He’s an idiot.” Julianna smiled and Patrick was sure it was not only the first time he had seen her smile since he met her, but it was also so beautiful. Probably because a Julianna smile was such a rare thing. Her full lips curved up slowly to reveal her straight, white teeth and her dark brown eyes creased in the corners. _Never mind. She_ is _something special,_ Patrick thought.

            “Dude, you gonna jam with us or stare at Julianna all night?” Joe held the glass door open and poked his head out. Patrick’s cheeks flushed. He looked at his feet as if to hide his embarrassment at being caught staring. Joe waved Julianna over. “Come on, we’ve got a very special spot for you.”

            “Intriguing,” Julianna said, and it wasn’t sarcastic or clipped. She was beginning to actually like these boys and feel comfortable around them. Maybe having some friends, band boys though they may be, wouldn’t be the end of the world. She walked over to Joe, who ushered her through the door, and Patrick followed.

            “Welcome to VIP seating,” Joe gestured grandly toward the leather executive chair in front of the computer, which sat off to the side of the band so she wasn’t looking at them straight-on. This way she could see all the guys playing their instruments. Andy, the drummer, had brought his own five-piece set and was setting up as the rest of them tuned. Tim, apparently the singer, was off to one side warming up his voice. Pete, the bassist, stood in another corner of the room, bent at the waist over his guitar, plucking the four strings repeatedly and turning the pegs until the intrument was properly tuned. Joe and Patrick stood facing each other near the front of the room, each with an electric guitar slung across their torsos, strumming chords and turning pegs until they were pitch perfect. Julianna was amazed that none of them needed a tuning device. They all seemed to be able to play by ear, which was impressive. After several minutes of noise and dissonant sounds coming from all corners of the room, the boys each took their place as if they were performing live. Tim and his microphone took front center stage with Pete on his left and Joe and Patrick on his right. Andy, of course, sat behind his drum kit in the back. None of them had music stands or physical copies of music.

            “What’s first?” Joe asked, turning so his back was to Patrick but so that he could see the rest of the band.

            “I was thinking we could start with ‘Expatriates’ and bleed right into ‘Pale Horse’, then play the other three songs in the same order as last time,” Tim said.

            “I think that’s gonna be a weird transition,” Andy shook his head, scrunching up one side of his face like he could already hear how it would sound and it was not pleasing.

            “No, dude, you can drop out,” Tim gestured with his hands as he talked, “then Joe will sustain the last note, Pete plays a four count, then start in on ‘Pale Horse’.” Andy still didn’t look convinced. “Let’s just do it this once and if we don’t like it we can try something else. I just think ‘Expatriates’ is our strongest song.”

            “We’ll try it,” Pete said. “Count us in, Andy.”

            The drummer lifted his arms above his head and clicked his sticks together in a fast count, “One, two, onetwothreefour!” Hard, guitar-heavy music filled the dorm-room sized space. Tim’s vocals were gravelly, half singing, half growling, mixed with Pete’s intermittent background screams, and Joe’s fingers seemed to fly over his guitar strings as he played, bobbing his head along to the furious beat. A metalcore band practice was not an activity Julianna would have ever voluntarily attended, but it would have been a shame if she had never heard these guys play. They were really good. All five of them were talented musicians individually, and together they were magic. No one instrument dominated the sound; they listened to each other and responded equally to changes in tempo, pitch and volume. Julianna especially liked to watch Patrick play. He didn’t jump around and head bang like Pete and Joe; he spent most of the time looking at his hands strumming over the strings and instinctively moved with the music, but he stayed in one spot as he played. She wondered if he even knew that he was, indeed, bobbing his head to the music.

            Every so often he would look over at Joe or Tim or back at Andy and smile or make some sort of face, but then he would look down at his hands again. He didn’t draw attention to himself, but Patrick was all she could focus on. He obviously loved playing music with his friends, as if he could stay in this room for the rest of his life with these four guys, playing their songs and he would be the most content guy in the world. His joy in that moment was infectious, and to Julianna he was the most attractive boy in the room. Most girls probably didn’t even give him a second look…if they looked at him at all. In a world where girls wanted tall, dark and handsome, Patrick was definitely a diamond in the rough. He was short, probably standing only about five feet-five inches, had an average build and was by no means ripped. As he played, Julianna could see the muscles in his biceps and forearms ripple with his movements, but he wouldn’t be winning strength competitions or boxing matches any time soon. Besides, he seemed more like a lover than a fighter to her. His straight, blonde hair was mostly covered by a gray knit beanie with his bangs peeking out and falling over his forehead and eyebrows. Despite the shadow cast by his hat, Julianna could tell his green eyes were framed by long lashes any girl would kill to have, and when he smiled his full lips pulled his whole face into the action. No, he wasn’t tall, dark and handsome, but he was cute, smart, sincere and incredibly talented, and those were the traits that made him so attractive to her.

            “Hey, so, what’d you think?”

            Julianna jumped at the question, realizing just how deep into her own thoughts she had waded. The band was finished playing their entire set and now they wanted her opinion.

            “It was good. You guys are great,” Julianna said in the general direction of the question. She really wasn’t sure who actually asked it.

            “Just good?” Tim asked, not impressed with the general compliments. Julianna glared at him, hoping he would pick up on the fact that she was not impressed with his Type-A personality.

            “Dude, chill,” Pete rested his forearms on the bass guitar still slung over his body and shifted his attention to the girl. “Do you think it’s good enough to play for a hardcore crowd at Grant Park?”

            “Yeah,” Julianna nodded her head and shrugged. “The transition between your first and second songs worked and kept the energy of the set moving forward. You guys sound awesome and gel well together. It’s impressive.”

            “Thanks,” Andy smiled.

            “So when is your show?”

            “Next Friday night,” Pete, clearly the outgoing personality in the group, answered. “We’re opening for Flatfoot 56 and a little Ohio band called Relient K. We go on at seven and have a twenty minute slot to fill.”

            “Pretty sure if you play for that crowd what you just played for me, they will be saying ‘Flatfoot 56 who? Bring back the opening act!’”

            “That’s a stretch, but nice to hear,” Tim smiled at the thought of being the band whose name the audience chants.

            “Hey, look at that, Tim _can_ take a compliment,” Joe teased and the rest of the guys smirked at Tim as he rolled his eyes.

            “Why do I even hang out with you jokers?”

            “Because you need a little humor in your life and we are hella funny,” Pete answered.

            “And because you can’t play all the instruments by yourself,” Andy piped in from behind his drum set. “Hey, Julianna, you wanna come to the show?”

            She was taken aback at the abrupt, unsolicited invitation, taking several seconds before she answered, “I don’t know. This is the first time I’m hearing about it. The Chicago hardcore scene isn’t really my thing.”

            “Trick’s going. It’s not his favorite either,” Pete offered.

            “What? No! Not true,” Patrick defended himself. “I just prefer the more melodic stuff to, you know, screaming.” Pete just stood over there smirking and shaking his head.

            “Aren’t you playing with the band?” Julianna directed her question to Patrick, her eyes narrowed in confusion. Patrick shook his head.

            “Naw, his momma won’t let him,” Pete teased. Patrick just kept shaking his head and fiddled with the strings on his guitar, but Julianna could see the red flush creeping up his neck again.

            “I promised her I would finish high school before joining a band…if that’s even what I choose to do with my life,” Patrick explained. “The band practices here because Joe’s in the band and I’ve got the best setup. Plus, they let me play at practices and I get into shows for free.”

            “Sweet,” Julianna said.

            “Ok, seriously, enough with the chit-chat,” Tim interjected, sounding a little annoyed. “We’re here for the music. Can we go through the whole set again to solidify that transition? Then we can work on some of the trouble spots in the newest song.”

            “Good deal, let’s do this thing!” Pete poised his fingers over his bass, ready to play again. This time, Julianna made it a point to watch the entire band rather than stare at Patrick like some starstruck school girl. By the time they were finished with practice, they had gone through their five song set twice, played the third song in the set – their newest song as Tim called it – at least four times, and changed a chord progression in their final song at least three times. Joe looked like he was about to break his guitar over Tim’s head and Andy had popped a blister on his left hand during a particularly intense drum solo. It was time to end before they weren’t friends anymore.

            Patrick helped Andy disassemble the drum kit while Pete went over to talk to Julianna. He liked Pete. Pete was a decent guy, a great bassist and lyricist, but he didn’t trust Pete, especially around members of the opposite sex. _This is ridiculous_ , Patrick scolded himself silently. _Why do I even care?_ But he couldn’t deny that stab of jealousy hitting him right in the gut when Julianna laughed at something Pete said. He must have been staring because Andy whistled and waved his hand in front of Patrick’s face.

            “Earth to Trick. You’ve got my ride cymbal. I’d like to take it out to the van.”

            “Oh, sorry, man,” Patrick looked down at what was in his hand, and sure enough it was Andy’s ride cymbal.

            “What’s the deal with…oh, got it,” Andy followed the younger man’s gaze to answer his own question.

            “Actually, I’ll take the cymbals, you take the kick drum,” Patrick attempted to change the subject, hefting the ride cymbal up under his arm then picking up the crash cymbal by it’s stand. He carried the instruments toward the stairs. Andy hoisted his drum against his chest and followed his friend.

            “So you like her?” Andy grinned as they lugged their instruments up the wooden basement stairs.

            “I don’t know, maybe,” Patrick couldn’t lie to Andy. He was the least judgmental of them all, and also the most perceptive. “We just met today and she’s not really my type, but there’s something, like, mysterious about her that I want to figure out.”

            “Um, bud, don’t take this the wrong way because you know I love you, but what _is_ your type? I mean, have you even _had_ a girlfriend yet?” Andy set the large drum on the kitchen floor as Patrick opened the door leading into the garage and pressed the button to open the garage door.

            “No,” Patrick admitted, “but I know what I like and it’s definitely not a girl like her. She’s so reserved and brooding and mysterious. I like open and outgoing and fun.” They walked through the garage with the instruments, then set them down on the concrete driveway near the back end of the white van.

            “Maybe you don’t,” Andy said matter-of-factly, opening the back end of the van and carefully setting his drum up on it’s end against the side wall. “You think that’s what you want or need because you tend to be shy and reserved, but maybe what you need is someone different. It’s not necessarily a good thing to date someone who is your complete opposite.”

            “Why? What’s wrong with that? I don’t want someone like me because, believe me when I say, I’m not exactly known for my outgoing personality and sparkling wit,” Patrick loaded the cymbals into the van, setting them up against the drum to prevent it from rolling once the van was in motion. “I need someone who can carry on conversations and make me not so invisible when we walk into a room.”

            “Patrick, you yourself have plenty to offer on your own. You don’t need a girl to complete you. You need the right girl who likes you for you and who will be your best friend. Someone who shares some of your same interests but is also their own individual.”

            “And what do Julianna and I have in common? We hardly know each other!”

            “Well, music is an essential part of your life, and she seems to be just as obsessed, if not she is at least knowledgable about bands and genres and music theory. I mean, if she can carry on a conversation with Joe then she must be more than just a casual radio listener.” Andy had a point there. Joe was polite and friendly to everyone, but he didn’t consider people worth his time beyond pleasantries if they couldn’t talk in depth about guitars or rock and roll or know at least once obscure band.

            “Ok, but beyond that, what’s there?” Patrick leaned his back against the van and shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

            “Man, I don’t know! I’m not an expert. I’d just hate to see you pass up a chance because you were over-thinking it or too shy to pursue it or whatever. I don’t know her that well, but I know you. And the way you looked at her then looked at Pete when he went over to her was enough to convince me that there is something there. I mean, we’ve only known each other for a year, but I’ve never seen you look at a girl that way.…and not for lack of female population because you know Pete.” Patrick was convinced that most of the girls at the band’s shows were not actually there for the music but rather for the bassist playing the music. It seemed like he had a new girl every other week or so.

            They went back inside to finish bringing the rest of the drum kit out to the van. Pete was still talking to Julianna, but at least Joe and Tim were over there now too. Patrick couldn’t explain why it bothered him so much unless he really was attracted to her like Andy seemed to think. Maybe he should try to get to know her to see how she felt about him, and to test his own feelings to see if they are legitimate. The worst that could happen would be her saying no if he asked her out, and if nothing else he would have a new friend and the band would have a new fan. He heard a higher-pitched laugh, definitely female, and snapped his head around to see Julianna laughing at something Pete said again, her face genuinely happy. Pete was smiling too and standing too close to her. _Scratch that. The worst case scenario would be if Julianna became Pete’s flavor of the week._ Patrick looked away and focused on helping Andy pick up the drums. A girl was not worth losing a friend over. And, despite his need for attention and causing ruckus, Pete was a loyal friend.

            By the time all the instruments, microphones and stands were loaded into the van, it was still only 8:30, and no one was ready to go home yet. Joe called his girlfriend to meet up with them at Patrick’s house, and by the time she drove there from her job in Wilmette the rest of the group had decided to go bowling. Julianna called her mom to let her know where she was and when she thought she might be home, and after negotiating for a later curfew she hung up the phone in the Stumph’s kitchen and turned to the rest of them.

            “Really? You have a 10:30 curfew on a Friday night?” Pete asked incredulously.

            “Yeah, so? I’m only 16,” she said.

            “What?!” Pete grabbed at his chest and playfully staggered backwards into Tim, who pushed him back into a standing position. Julianna smiled and shook her head. “Is it even legal for us to be hanging out? I mean, you’re great and all, but I’m not about to go to jail for a girl.”

            “Just don’t try any funny business,” Andy said, pushing his friend’s shoulder as they walked off with Tim to find Joe and his girlfriend. Patrick was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was alone in his kitchen with Julianna. _Just say something. Anything._

            “Um, so – “ he began as she asked, “How old _are_ Tim, Andy and Pete, exactly?”

            “Oh, um, Tim and Pete are twenty-one and Andy is twenty,” Patrick shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans again, then pulled them out and wiped his palms on his thighs. _Quit that. Stop moving. Just act like a normal person._

            “So, how did you and Joe meet them? Obviously, you guys don’t go to school together and Pete said he and Andy live in Wilmette?”

            “Well, Joe actually met Pete first, in a Borders bookstore. They were both there to see some local musician, and since Pete will talk to anyone and Joe loves talking bands and music, they got to talking and Joe found out Pete was in a band and they needed a lead guitarist, and Pete found out Joe played guitar, and the rest is history as they say.”

            “What about you? How is it they practice at your house but you aren’t actually in the band?”

            “I went to their very first show in Chicago last year and Joe introduced me to the guys. They weren’t looking for a fifth member but they did need a good practice space, so I offered my basement.”

            “Are you two coming or what? We’re leaving!” Andy’s voice called from the next room.

            “Yeah, we’re coming!” Patrick called back. He swept his arms in a grand gesture toward the doorway and bent slightly forward at the waist, “After you.”

            “Why thank you,” Julianna played along, walking through the doorway. He followed, and they all went through the garage out to the cars in the driveway.

            “Shot gun!” Pete called immediately.

            “Dude, we don’t even know who’s going with who yet,” Tim said, pulling the van keys out of his back pocket.

            “I don’t care who I ride with,” Pete said. “I’m sitting in the front seat.”

            “Do you mind driving the van?” Joe asked Tim.

            “No. I kinda expected to drive,” Tim answered.

            “Ok. How about you three take the van, then Linds, Trick, Julianna and I can go in her car?” Joe suggested.

            “You’re driving,” Lindsay told her boyfriend, shoving her key ring into his chest and going around to the front passenger side of her 1990 Cadillac DeVille.

            “You drive a grandma car, you get to haul the kids around,” Joe grinned at her.

            “Just open the door,” Lindsay said, her tone sounded impatient but her face said she was mostly kidding.

            “Guess that’s what we’re doing,” Tim said.

            “Shot gun!” Pete shouted again.

            “Dude, we get it, shut up,” Andy climbed into the back seat of the five passenger van, and Pete and Tim got in the front. The other four got in Lindsay’s boat of a car.

            “I’m Lindsay, by the way,” she introduced herself as Joe pulled the car out of the driveway. “Sorry about these rude guys.”

            “Julianna.”

            “Ah, you’re the lab partner.”

            _What?! Joe talked about me to his girlfriend?!_

            “Yep, I’m the lab partner,” Julianna looked out her window. She wasn’t sure what she thought of this girl yet. Lindsay was definitely pretty…and outgoing. She had curly blonde hair that fell freely over her shoulders, and she was dressed in tight jeans and an Abercrombie & Fitch hoodie. For as rock and roll as Joe was, this girl was cheerleader prep. Thankfully, that was the end of their conversation because Lindsay turned her attention to regaling Joe with news and stories from her coffeeshop job. Apparently, she got hit on a lot. Julianna did her best to tune it out, casting a sidelong glance at Patrick, who was staring out his window as if the passing houses and trees in his neighborhood were the most fascinating things in the world. He was definitely a different kind of guy. Peculiar, yet interesting. An enigma wrapped up in a nervous little beanie-wearing package.

            He didn’t seem to mind silence, which was fine. She liked to be quiet and get lost in her own thoughts, too. But he also didn’t seem to know how to begin conversations. It wasn’t that he couldn’t carry on a conversation because she was certain that if someone got him on the right subject he wouldn’t shut up. But he wouldn’t start it. She couldn’t figure out if it was because he didn’t know what to say or if he was being polite by letting the other person guide the conversation. Whatever the case, he was frugal with his words which allowed him to be concise and direct, and he came across as being sincere and friendly despite his obvious shyness.

            The car ride to the all-night bowling alley was only a six minute drive from Patrick’s house. When they walked inside the bowling alley/bar, Julianna was surprised when the man and woman working behind the front counter greeted the group like they were old friends.

            “Good evening, boys!” the woman, whose nametag read ‘Judy’, smiled warmly, “Lindsay.”

            “Good evening, Miss Judy,” Lindsay smiled back and the guys each offered a greeting.

            “And who is this pretty girl, Patrick?” the older gentleman, Bill, asked. Patrick blushed again but smiled at the man who was old enough to be his grandfather and introduced Julianna.

            “Nice to meet you, young lady,” Bill nodded kindly at her.

            “Are you boys, and ladies, in for two games tonight?” Judy asked from behind the register.

            “Yeah, we’ll start with two,” Pete answered. “We may play more, though.”

            “Ok. That’s fine. Just let us know, sweetheart,” Judy took the money Pete handed to her as Bill set five pairs of multi-colored suede bowling shoes on the counter.

            “What size do you need, Julianna?” he asked.

            “Um, size six, please,” Julianna felt like she was in a daze. Meeting this older couple, who seemed to be very familiar with Patrick and his friends, and Pete paying for their games. She didn’t know how to react to these people in this new environment. As the group walked away from the counter to put on their shoes, Julianna lagged behind slightly and grabbed Patrick’s forearm, pulling him close. He looked surprised at the physical contact.

            “Did Pete pay for everyone?” she asked in a low voice.

            Patrick shook his head, “We all pooled our money. Bill and Judy don’t charge us for the shoe rental, just the games, so it only costs like three bucks a person for two games. You can pay Pete back if it bothers you.” Julianna realized she was still gripping Patrick’s arm and she quickly brought her hand back to her side, then walked ahead of him to join the others at the two lanes on the far end of the bowling alley.

            “So, who’s playing against who?” Julianna flounced down next to Pete in the conjoined plastic seats and put her shoes on as if the interaction with Patrick, and the fact that she touched his arm and felt light-headed just by his nearness, didn’t actually happen. Lindsay sat on Joe’s lap across the narrow aisle while Tim and Andy sat in front of the computerized score sheet. Patrick sat down next to Joe and Lindsay to put on his shoes.

            “What makes you think we’re competing?” Pete asked slyly.

            “Come on, five guys playing a sport? There will be a competition,” Julianna’s torso was turned fully to face Pete, her left leg pulled up onto the small space between her body and his.

            “Well, based on what happened last time, I’m guessing Trick and Tim will _not_ be on the same team,” Pete grinned widely at his friend. Patrick narrowed his eyes. “Sorry, man,” Pete apologized but it wasn’t sincere.

            “Why, what happened?” Julianna asked.

            “Let’s just say Tim is very competitive, and this guy’s not exactly know for his athleticism and hand-eye coordination,” Pete was struggling to keep from busting up laughing. The dim lighting in the bowling alley made his hazel eyes appear to be sparkling as he clearly enjoyed the moment.

            “You’re an asshole,” Patrick muttered. Clearly, he was not amused by what happened, or maybe it was the fact that there seemed to be no secrets kept when Pete was around.

            “Yeah, but I’m handsome, so it evens out,” Pete responded and Patrick couldn’t help but smirk at his friend’s audacious view of himself. Thim and Andy finally decided the teams and the group split themselves between the two lanes. Tim, Joe, Lindsay and Pete were on one lane, and Andy, Patrick and Julianna were on the other.

            “Don’t expect much, or laugh at my misfortunes because I’m warning you right now I’m kinda terrible at this,” Julianna warned as she stepped up to the lane to take her first turn. She managed to knock down seven pins in the first frame.

            “Not too shabby,” Andy nodded his approval. Patrick congratulated her with a high-five and she happily sat down next to him while Andy took his turn.

            “You guys do this often?” she asked.

            “Yeah. Pete calls it team-building, but I secretly think it’s just an excuse for him to flaunt his athletic abilities and curb his and Tim’s competitive edges,” Patrick made a point to make eye contact with her as he spoke. She actually smiled and kind of giggled at his remark, and his insides turned to jello. He wanted this girl. Not in a sexual way – although that wouldn’t be off the table – rather he just wanted to be around her, to talk to her and hear her stories as he told her his, to understand her mysterious moods, and to learn what made her laugh or cry or pissed off.

            A loud cheer erupted from the next lane, and they looked over to see Joe throwing his hands up in celebration of his first strike.

            “And so it begins,” Andy dead-panned.

            “The slaughter,” Patrick said in a deep, ominous voice as if he was narrating a horror movie trailer. As Patrick was taking his turn, Judy came over to ask if they wanted anything to eat or drink. Andy ordered a large pizza with “everything but the anchovies,” and Joe ordered the Tex-Mex nachos. By the middle of the fourth frame, Bill and Judy brought out the food as well as seven large Cokes.

            “Thanks, Judy,” Pete flirted with the woman old enough to be his grandmother as she handed him a cup of pop.

            “Flattery will get you no where, young man,” Judy said sternly, but she was smiling and her eyes were warm and kind. She obviously doted on and loved these boys as if they were her own.

            “Except knocked out,” Bill warned. The group laughed and Pete feigned insult.

            “Oh we’re all waiting for the day a smart girl just lays him out cold,” Lindsay teased.

            “In fact, we have a pool going,” Tim piled on, “of when and if he will require hospitalization or just stitches.”

            “It wouldn’t be the first time,” Pete said.

            “What? When?” Tim asked, surprised there was still something he didn’t know about his band mate.

            “Noheli Lopez, seventh grade,” Pete responded. “You guys don’t know everything about me.”

            “I like this Noheli girl,” Lindsay said. “I wish there were more girls out there like her.”

            They got back to their game, sharing the pizza and nachos between the two lanes. By the time they had played two games, Pete’s team had beaten Andy’s team by one hundred points, and Pete and Tim were reveling in their victory as the rest were trying to decide if they wanted to play one more game. No one really wanted to go home yet.

            “Whoa!” Patrick looked over at the clock hanging above the front counter, “It’s almost eleven. Do you have to be home, Julianna?”

            “Not yet,” Julianna drained the last of her now watered-down Coke and set the emtpy styrofoam cup on top of the empty pizza tray. “I don’t have to be home until midnight.”

            “Awesome!” Pete exclaimed. “Let’s play another game!”

            “Um, guys, I have to go,” Lindsay said, wrapping her arm around Joe’s waist and leaning against his shoulder, her eyes drooping slightly. “I’m wiped out and I have to work again tomorrow.”

            “I’ll walk you out,” Joe leaned his head down on hers for a brief moment, then released her to sit down and take off his bowling shoes. Everyone else said their goodbyes to Lindsay as she returned her bowling shoes for her street shoes.

            “I vote we go back to Patrick’s house and just hang out,” Andy said.

            “Sounds good to me,” Patrick looked at Julianna, who was standing very close to his side. “I think I’ve filled my athletic quota for the week.”

            “Fine,” Pete fake pouted, “but I’m printing out these scores and framing them because I was on fire!”

            “You do that,” Patrick said sarcastically, patting his friend on the shoulder.


	3. Chapter Three

            When they arrived back at Patrick’s house, Joe informed Julianna that he wasn’t quite ready to go home yet, but he would take her home since she rode with him.

            “I can take you home,” Patrick jumped in too quickly. Joe, Andy and Julianna just stared at him like he had grown a horn in the middle of his head. “I mean, if you need a ride…or whatever.”

            “That’s fine. Patrick can take me home,” Julianna smiled politely at Joe.

            They all got out of the van, and Pete, Tim and Andy raced inside, down to the basement to play Gran Turismo on Patrick’s Playstation. Joe followed at a much more leisurely pace, and Julianna started that way too but Patrick stopped her with a hand on her arm.

            “Julianna, wait!” he said a little too loudly and earnestly, but she stopped and turned to face him.

            “Yes?” she asked, curious.

            Patrick immediately took his hand back and shoved his hands in his front pockets again, nervously kicking his foot at the ground, “Um, well, I – you never actually answered Pete’s question about going to the show next Friday. I was just wondering if you’re going and if you want to carpool?” _Carpool? What, are you a soccer mom?_ He mentally kicked himself.

            “Yeah, sure,” Julianna shrugged, “I mean, it sounds like a good time. It’s been great hanging out with you guys tonight.”

            “Yeah?” Patrick smiled wide. “Pete didn’t scare you off?”

            Julianna laughed again and Patrick knew he could spend a long time just waiting to hear that sound again.

            “No, Pete is fine,” Julianna answered. “Underneath all that emo hair and attitude, he really is sweet. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

            “My lips are sealed,” Patrick pressed his lips together and acted like he was locking them then throwing away the key.

            “Ok, well, I really should get going now,” Julianna said. “I’m gonna go get my backpack and say bye to the guys. Meet you back at your car?”

            “Sounds good.”

            Three minutes later, Patrick and Julianna were in Patrick’s car, puling out of the driveway. Julianna navigated as Patrick drove, and not even ten minutes later they were across town in front of Julianna’s house.

            “Holy crap,” Patrick leaned down in order to look out the windshield and take in the enormity of her house. Mansion was more like it. The house itself was at least three stories high with a patio balcony stretched across the second story. A wide wooden porch wrapped around the front of the house, and the yard was perfectly landscaped and manicured. He thought Joe’s house was big. This house was excessive.

            “And that is why I don’t bring friends, or lab partners, over,” Julianna dead-panned.

            “Who _are_ you?” Patrick turned his head to look at her, wide-eyed, but she could tell he was half-kidding.

            “Oh shut up,” she shoved his shoulder hard. “My dad is a professional hockey team owner and my mom inherited her dad’s real estate company. My _parents_ are stinking rich. I’m making my own way.”

            “Your dad _owns_ the Chicago Blackhawks?!” Patrick exclaimed. _Did he even hear anything I said after that?_ Julianna nodded, then the light went on in his eyes as he connected the dots. “Oh my god, your brother is Jonathan Toews! All-state, all-star hockey team captain, NHL-bound.”

            “Twin brother. So you can imagine how disappointed my parents were when their other child, only daughter, rebelled against the system and had the audacity to be artistic,” she said sarcastically.

            “That’s too bad because I think you’re pretty rad,” Patrick said without thinking. “I mean, we all think you’re pretty rad…the band, you know, Joe, Andy—“

            “I know what you meant,” Julianna interrupted him with a hand on his arm as a hot blush crept up her neck. “Please promise you won’t tell the other guys in the band?”

            “I promise. Does Joe know that you’re practically neighbors when it comes to socio-ecomonic status?”

            Julianna frowned and shook her head, “He knows about Jonathan, but not about my parents’ money. I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. I should go inside so they know I’m home. See you at school on Monday?”

            “Yep. See you Monday.”

            “Thanks for the ride. And for tonight. I had fun,” Julianna smiled at him one last time then grabbed her backpack from the floor and got out of the car. She did not look back at him as she walked up her driveway and disappeared inside her monstrous house, and for the first time in his life Patrick was actually looking forward to school on Monday morning when he would see her again.


	4. Chapter Four

            The next week seemed to drag by too slowly as Patrick and Joe eagerly anticipated the show on Friday night, but it also seemed to go too fast as they spent more time with Julianna. She went to Patrick’s house every day after school, partly because she just didn’t want to go home but mostly because she really wanted to get to know these guys better. She only had two classes with Joe, so hanging out at school as a trio wasn’t an option, and she found she actually looked forward to the end of the school day now.

            However, Patrick and Julianna were not able spend time just the two of them since that night in his car, and he wondered if she planned it that way. She was skittish around people, he noticed, especially people she potentially cared about. She would open herself up to a certain point then retreat back into herself if she felt someone was getting too close. It was infuriating and intriguing to Patrick because as soon as he thought he was gaining ground in their friendship, she would distance herself just as quickly. But he wanted to know why she was this way. What made her so distrusting of people? She seemed to have parents who, though misguided in their treatment of her dreams and abilities, loved and cared for her, and she got along with her twin brother despite their polar opposite worldviews.

            Julianna introduced Patrick and Joe to Jonathan when they got out of their cars in the school parking lot on Monday morning. As much as he hated to admit it, Patrick felt intimidated by the tall, lean, athletic kid. As soon as Jonathan and Julianna stepped out of their tan Range Rover, she greeted Patrick and Joe with a smile and a wave, but Jonathan was much more serious. He shook hands and said few words as he hefted his hockey bag onto his back then went off to find his team mates. And that was the only interaction Patrick had with Julianna’s twin brother. He did not seem too overly protective of his sister, and based on the way Julianna talked about him, Jonathan was definitely the responsible leader-type working to get ahead and prove himself to the world. Julianna cared very little about being a leader or being in the spotlight and she rebelled against social conventions and others’ opinions of her. Though Patrick knew she did care what other people thought of her. At the very least, she wanted people to respect her views even if they did not necessarily agree or even like her. The thing that really drew Patrick to her, though, was her ability to treat others the way she wanted to be treated. She never had a negative thing to say about her peers, and yet she was realistic and honest.

            On Friday, Julianna met Patrick at his car, a gray 1986 Honda Civic, when school ended. Joe and the band guys had to be in Chicago by 4:30 to set up for sound check at 5:30, so he left as soon as the final bell rang. Julianna’s parents wanted to meet Patrick before he drove their daughter to a rock concert in the city, but when they pulled into her driveway he just sat there, gripping the steering wheel.

            “You gonna come in?” Julianna unbuckled her seat belt and let it fall into place behind her.

            “Eventually,” Patrick worked his hands on the plastic steering wheel, making the muscles in his forearms jump. “Maybe.”

            “Come on, Patrick, they’re just people. They’re not scary or intimidating. Pretend they’re Joe’s parents or something.”

            “Wow, you’re so sympathetic. I can’t handle it.”

            “Paaaaatriiiiiick,” she drew out his name as she shook his shoulder with both her hands, “it’s going to be fine. You’re sweet and non-threatening and they’re gonna love you…as much as they can love someone besides themselves. The sooner we get in there, the sooner it will be over and we can get to Chicago.”

            Patrick looked over at her smiling face, her big brown eyes shining in the October mid-afternoon sun, and decided he would do anything to continue seeing that face; genuinely happy, excited about the night ahead.

            “Ok, let’s go in.”

            Inside, Patrick tried not to look impressed by the Toews’ house, but he was sure he was failing as he stood in the foyer and gazed up at the twenty-foot ceiling and double-spiral staircase. He wasn’t sure but the floor looked like it was made of marble and the sun shone through the skylights over the upstairs loft, filling the entryway with rays of light that looked like God Himself would ascend the stairs at any moment.

            “Keep walking,” Julianna gently prodded him with her hand on his back. They went down a short hallway with a bathroom on one side and another door, probably leading to the basement, on the other wall. The hall opened up into a huge kitchen, dining and living room area that was even more impressive than the entryway. Tall, six-paned windows on the back wall of the living room allowed light in, and the ceilings were at least eight feet tall. A television as big as Patrick was tall was attached to the wall adjacent to the windows, facing a glass coffee table and a brown leather sectional. Two leather recliners on either side of the room also faced the TV. An ornate wooden dining table was the centerpiece of the dining room, and the kitchen was probably as large as Patrick’s entire house. Everything was professionaly decorated. A tall, slender woman in a white pantsuit and heels stood at the sink arranging a dozen yellow roses in a vase. Her nails were perfectly french manicured, and she was the spitting image of a taller, slightly older Julianna.

            “Hi, Mom,” Julianna greeted, standing next to Patrick on the other side of the granite-topped kitchen island.

            “Oh, hi, hon,” the woman looked up from her flower arranging and wiped her hands on a towel that was draped over the edge of the sink. “You must be Patrick.” Her heels clicked on the shiny wood floor as she made her way over to Patrick and held out her hand.

            “Yes, hi, ma’am,” Patrick shook her hand, surprised by her firm grip.

            “You can call me Mrs. Toews,” she smiled and pushed a strand of her perfectly laid brown hair behind her ear, revealing large diamond earring studs. The teenage boy suddenly felt very small and poor in this immaculate house with this immaculate woman. He now regretted his choice of slightly ripped, old blue jeans and a navy blue ‘The Stereo’ T-shirt with his black Converse and ever-present beanie. This morning he looked rock and roll, but now he just felt sloppy.

            “Where’s Dad?” Julianna asked.

            “He’ll be home in a few minutes. He took Jonathan to hockey practice,” Mrs. Toews explained, going back to her flowers at the sink. “So, Patrick, you go to school with Julianna and Jonathan?”

            “Yes, ma’—Mrs. Toews,” Patrick corrected himself, rubbing his hands together then wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

            “Hmm, that’s interesting. How come we’ve never heard of you until now?”

            “Mom!” Julianna warned, her eyes telling Patrick he did not have to answer that underhanded question.

            “Uh, well, Julianna and I just met. She was my friend Joe’s lab partner recently,” Patrick ignored her silent clues. He figured if he answered her mom’s questions, no matter how snobby they may get, the more likely he would be able to prove that he was not intimidated by this woman and her money. And maybe he could prove that he was worthy of her daughter’s attention.

            “And this Joe is the one in the band?”

            “Yes! Mom, we already talked about this!” Julianna impatiently cut in as a tall and equally distinguished older gentleman came into the house from the garage door off the family room.

            “I’m just trying to get to know your friend, Julianna,” Mrs. Toews retorted, then smiled at her husband. It was all very Stepford.

            “Hi, honey,” the man, whom Patrick assumed was Mr. Toews, kissed his daughter on the cheek then went to his wife and repeated his greeting. Then he went to Patrick with his hand extended. “And you must be Patrick?”

            “Yes, sir,” Patrick shook the man’s hand.

            “Well, it’s nice to meet you, young man,” Mr. Toews appeared to be much more jovial and informal than his wife. “I guess I’m supposed to tell you no funny business with my daughter and have her home at a reasonable hour.”

            Patrick liked him. “I will, sir.”

            “Dad,” Julianna rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

            “I’m just trying to do this thing right, sweetie. I’ve never had a teenage daughter dating before.”

            “We’re not—“ “Dad!” Patrick and Julianna protested at the same time.

            “We’ll be home by one,” Julianna told her parents. “We’re leaving now.” She started to push Patrick toward the door, then turned back and hugged her dad. “Bye. Thanks. Love you.” She reluctantly hugged her mom, too.

            “It was nice to meet you,” Mr. Toews said to Patrick as Julianna ushered him out the front door.

            “See? Not scary once you get past the ice queen,” Julianna said once they were back in Patrick’s car.

            “Yep,” Patrick started the car and backed out of the driveway. “Your parents are nice.”

            “No, my dad is nice,” Julianna corrected him. “My mom is…complicated.”

            Patrick didn’t know her or her relationship with her mom well enough to offer a comment so he kept his mouth shut.

            “Come on, Patrick,” Julianna prodded, “you can be honest. What did you think of my parents?”

            “I thought they were fine,” he responded, keeping his gaze focused on the road in front of him. Julianna let out a disbelieving sound and sat back in her seat, her arms crossed over her stomach. They drove in silence with only Patrick’s mix CD playing until he merged onto the interstate toward Chicago. The city was only a half hour away from Glenview, and about twenty five minutes from where they were now as Patrick merged left onto I-94.

            “Do you play any other instruments besides drums and guitar?” Julianna looked over at the boy in the driver’s seat, his face partially hidden by blonde hair and a beanie.

            He nodded his head, “Yeah. Mostly the stringed instruments. I can play piano fairly well, I guess. My dad tried to teach me banjo and ukelele, but I only remember a few chords. I played a little saxophone for the jazz band last year, but I don’t really like to play the reed instruments as much.”

            “So you’re pretty much a musical genius.”

            Patrick’s cheeks lifted in a small smile and he chuckled low, “Not hardly. My dad is way more talented and my mom is, like, a piano prodigy.”

            “How come I haven’t met your dad yet? He sounds like a cool guy,” Julianna found his love for his parents endearing.

            “My parents divorced when I was eight.”

            “Oh. I’m sorry.”

            “No, it’s ok,” Patrick shrugged and briefly glanced over to let her know he truly wasn’t offended by her question. “They’re actually great friends still and I see him all the time when he’s home. He’s a musician so he travels a lot, and my mom just didn’t like all the inconsistency when my brother and sister and I were growing up. What about you? Obviously you like music. Do you play anything?”

            Julianna wanted to ask him more questions about his family and Joe and the guys in the band, but he was clearly not comfortable talking about himself so she respected the change in subject and answered his questions.

            “Yeah, I’ve played piano since I was five and I sing a little and play even less guitar.”

            “How come I haven’t seen you in a band class or choir or anything?”

            Julianna looked out her window at the passing cars on the interstate and the flat landscape, “I don’t like to play publicly. I kinda just want to keep it to myself, you know?”

            He didn’t but he noticed the shift in her attitude and posture. He chose not to press the issue. She would tell him in her own time…he hoped.

            “I really like to paint and draw,” she revealed.

            “Oh yeah, I remember your art display for the winter showcase,” Patrick said. “The impressionist faces were really great, and Joe loved the comic strips.”

            “Really? Thanks,” she responded sincerely. Patrick waited for the self-deprecation to which teenage girls were prone to default when complimented or fishing for compliments, but she just sat on her side of the car and moved her head to the beat of the music. Elvis Costello’s ‘Alison’ was coming through the speakers now and she seemed to know it as she hummed along to the chorus. Color him impressed. A girl who knew of, and seemed to like, Elvis Costello was a ‘10’ as far as Patrick was concerned. Julianna continued to softly hum and sing along to the music, and Patrick just drove, enjoying her throaty, pitch perfect voice and the fact that he was driving to a rock show in Chicago with a girl beside him. Life, at this point in time, was perfect.

            They arrived at the venue in time to catch the tail end of Relient K’s soundcheck, then Joe’s band who, as she found out from Patrick, are called Arma Angelus, went on next. Julianna also discovered that the perk to coming to the show with Patrick was he basically had all-access and, by association, so did she. They went backstage to hang out with the guys after their fifteen minute soundcheck. The band’s green room was nothing to write home about, but it served its purpose as a place for the boys to dress and prepare for the show then relax until it was time to go on. Andy was walking around, nervously drumming his sticks against anything that made a sound. Tim was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and an open Mac laptop resting on his legs, and Joe sat next to him, looking at the computer screen over Tim’s shoulder. Julianna assumed there was a video game happening over there. Pete was lounging on the old, ripped leather couch in the center of the room. He had an acoustic guitar across his lap and was looking at an open journal sitting on the TV tray in front of the couch.

            “Hey guys,” Patrick grinned wide as he and Julianna stepped through the doorway.

            “Hey man,” Andy continued to wander around aimlessly drumming, “Julianna.” The other three guys just grunted a greeting.

            “This is special,” Julianna said sarcastically to Patrick. “So glad I got to go backstage to meet a bunch of rockstars.” Patrick grinned wide then walked over and plopped himself on the couch beside Pete. Julianna hung back slightly, still unsure of what to do or what was appropriate behavior in a green room. Joe must have noticed her discomfort because he used Tim’s shoulder to push himself up off the floor and pulled up a piano bench that was just sitting against the wall, placing it across from where Pete and Patrick sat on the couch, talking riffs and lyrics. Without saying a word, Joe sat on one end of the bench, made eye contact with the timid girl, and patted the empty space beside him, all at once making her feel safe and accepted. She went and sat next to him and wondered why they were never friends before now. At least, she considered him a friend. She didn’t really know what he thought of her, but he was considerate.

            “Where’s your girlfriend?” she asked Joe.

            “She has to work tonight,” Joe shrugged and ran his hand through the dark, curly mop of hair on his head. But she wondered if there was more to it than that. She had only met Lindsay that night they went bowling, and the whole time Joe and Lindsay were very physical; she sat on his lap, or he wrapped an arm around her when they walked together, but that seemed to be the extent of their relationship. They did not regularly call each other or keep track of what the other person was doing, and Lindsay worked a lot so she was rarely around. Joe did not come across like he cared that she was missing his show, and he never complained about her absence, but Julianna still wondered if he wished Lindsay would put more effort into the relationship. He didn’t offer up any more information, though.

            “Hey, did you see we got an A on that lab assignment?” Julianna leaned into him, gently jabbing him in the side with her shoulder.

            He smirked, “Yeah, I did. Good job, partner.”

            They continued to talk about Chem class and their next lab assignment, then the conversation naturally evolved into talking about music and bands, and Julianna discovered she really enjoyed conversing with Joe. It was easy. When he was on a topic he was passionate about he wore his emotions on his expressive face, and he was like an open book; honest and willing to go with the flow of the conversation. And he was so damn funny.

            Patrick glanced up from Pete’s lyric journal to see Julianna and Joe sitting side-by-side on the piano bench, engrossed in their own conversation. Sometimes Joe would say something that caused Julianna to bust up laughing. The sound was so genuine and natural and he felt a pang in his gut. Was it jealousy? _What is wrong with me? Joe is my best friend and has a girlfriend. He’s just being himself._ But still, Patrick wished he could make her laugh so openly. She looked so comfortable talking to Joe, not like the tense person she was in the car. Then he remembered that he knew more about her private life than anyone else in that room. That was what made her seem uncomfortable around him at times. Pete noticed his friend’s attention was no longer on writing a riff for the new lyrics he had written.

            “Dude, you’re staring,” Pete pushed his left elbow into the younger boy’s ribs, jolting the kid back to earth. Patrick cleared his throat and looked back down at the journal in his lap as he felt a hot flush starting up his neck. Pete set his guitar aside and turned his body to focus on his friend. “What’s going on with you two?”

            “Nothing,” Patrick shrugged but did not look up at Pete.

            “And that’s the problem, isn’t it.”

            _Damn Pete and his skills of observation._ That is what made him a great lyric writer, but it also meant he could read people better than the other guys. And Pete was not the type to ignore things or keep them to himself.

            “It could be,” Patrick said vaguely, avoiding eye contact.

            “Man, you have gotta take chances once in awhile,” Pete shook his head. “Girls are not gonna just throw themselves at you, especially not girls like that.”

            “Why not? They throw themselves at you.”

            “Because I’m shallow and good-looking,” Pete grinned, showing off his straight white teeth. “And I’m incapable of maintaining a real relationship. Believe me, smart girls like her stay far away from me. The girls I’ve been with would eat nice boys like you alive…hey, that’s a good line.” Pete took his lyric journal from Patrick and scribbled some words in the margin, then closed the book. Patrick heaved a big sigh and fell back into the couch, bringing his hand up to rest on his beanie-covered forehead. At that moment, Andy walked by and tapped his sticks on the arm of the couch. For a guy who was usually so calm and collected, he sure had an abundance of nervous energy before shows.

            “Are you coming to the afterparty?” Pete asked his exasperated friend, hoping a change in subject would keep his mind, even if only temporarily, off of his girl problems.

            “I don’t know. Am I allowed to go?” Parick answered but didn’t move from his slumped position in the couch.

            “Yeah, it’s an all-ages party. The guys in Relient K are just teenagers, too. We’re hanging out at the Bottom Lounge. I mean, there will be a bar, but it will be pretty low-key, dancing, chilling. Does Julianna have a curfew or anything?”

            “She told her parents she would be home by one,” Patrick said.

            “Did you meet them?” Pete grinned and looked back at his young friend, who narrowed his eyes.

            “How did you—Joe,” Patrick answered his own question. “Joe told you. Of course.”

            “Ok, but you didn’t answer my question.”

            “Yeah, Pete, I met them. They’re fine. Kinda stuck on appearances like Joe’s parents, but whatever. People are gonna do what they do.” Patrick hoped that answer was sufficient and that Pete didn’t keep pushing because he was not about to betray Julianna’s confidence in him. There may not be many secrets between the five guys, but Julianna had a right to her privacy, and since she let him see a part of her life he had a responsibility to respect her wishes.

            “Hmm,” Pete responded, picking up his guitar again and strumming his fingers gently across the six strings. “I’ve never actually met Joe’s parents. I know what he has told me about them and Andy has met them, I think.”

            “Yeah?” Patrick gripped the arm of the couch to pull himself back up into a sitting position. He grabbed Pete’s lyric journal off the TV tray and flipped to the page they had been on previously. For the next several minutes, as Joe and Julianna talked, Andy drummed randomly and Tim played his computer game quietly in the corner, Pete and Patrick worked on writing a new song. Pete’s grasp of the English language and parts of speech made him an excellent lyricist, but Patrick was definitely more musically inclined. It was like he always had a song idea, riff or melody running through his head. Together, he and Pete made a pretty good songwriting team. At quarter to seven, a venue official knocked on the green room door then stuck his head inside, informing them of the time.

            “Thank you!” all the boys called out automatically, then they began gathering their instruments, equipment and extra clothes. Suddenly, the relatively docile green room was a flurry of activity and excited band boy energy. Pete stood and put his acoustic guitar back in its case, then grabbed his black and red bass while Joe slipped a slightly holey jean jacket on over his black muscle T-shirt. Andy smoothed back his long brown hair with two hands, adjusted his black-rimmed glasses and bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for the rest of the guys to be ready. Tim set aside his computer and grabbed a water bottle from the 24-pack on the floor. Patrick and Julianna left to find a good spot in the crowd, which wasn’t hard to do. There were only about half as many people milling about and waiting in front of the stage for the opening acts than there was going to be by the time Flatfoot 56 came on.

            Patrick wasn’t sure how Julianna felt about moshing, and it wasn’t his preferred method of enjoying a concert, so he chose a spot off to the side of the stage near the stage-right speakers but back far enough to avoid going deaf. The grass gently sloped up, so Patrick and Julianna, despite being short and having five rows of people in front of them, still had a great view of the whole stage and would be able to stay clear of the moshers doing their thing front and center.

            “This is awesome!” Julianna said excitedly, her big brown eyes shining under the venue lights as the setting sun streaked orange highlights across the sky and through her dark hair. The light October breeze blew a strand into her eyes and he wanted to reach out and push it out of her face, but he put his hands in his jean pockets instead. “You know, I’ve never been to a concert before. I’m glad I get to be here with you watching a band I actually know.”

            Patrick was taken aback by her lack of inhibition in that moment, but he was not about to let it go unacknowledged, “I’m glad I get to take you to your first concert.” He grinned wide at her and she grabbed his bicep with two hands, wrapping her left arm through his right one and resting her head against his shoulder. He thought his heart was going to pound right out of his chest at the unsolicited physical contact. He tried to tell himself she was just high on first concert euphoria, therefore she was not fully aware of her actions. She was not touching him because she was flirting or into him. But his brain shut off. His heart won out because he hoped for something more. Maybe not tonight, but it was a good place to start.


	5. Chapter Five

            As Pete, Tim, Andy and Joe walked onto the stage to kick off the show, Patrick and Julianna cheered and clapped loudly for their friends. Several people around them—“emo scene kids” as Tim would call them—with their colorful, dyed hair, piercings, makeup and black clothing, looked in the teens’ direction. Some glared like the cheering, overly excited boy and girl were obviously posers unaware that this band was just the opening act that no one had ever heard of, and others just smiled and nodded, figuring these two were clueless but it was cool. Patrick and Julianna, however, were too interested in watching their friends play music.

            The band’s dynamic and charisma onstage was much different than what Julianna had seen in Patrick’s basement just a week ago. Andy was his usual self, beating his drums with all the passion and determination of a professional rock drummer, while Joe loosened up a little, moving around the stage purposefully but always ending back in his original place. Tim spent most of his time at the front end of the stage singing to the crowd and crouching down or moving however the music led him. Pete was just a mad man. He jumped and spun and walked across the stage to Joe, then to Tim, but always ended up back at his microphone when he had to sing—or rather, scream—his vocal parts. Despite how a person might feel about metalcore or punk rock music, they could not deny Arma Angelus was a really fun band to watch. Even some of the scoffing emo kids were now moshing or pushing to get closer to the stage and the crazy bass player.

            And Patrick was right about Pete’s groupies. A crowd of varying aged girls and young women were jumping up and down, pushing closer to the stage on Pete’s side, raising their hands and vying to get the attention of the good-looking bassist. Julianna wondered if maybe one of them would go home with Pete tonight, and she felt a stab in her midsection. Did she actually care? _He’s a man whore, an unapologetic man whore at that, and a struggling musician with an inflated ego and dreams of making it big. Why does that bother me?_ She silently asked herself as she outwardly jammed alongside Patrick. She liked Peter Wentz as a person, but there was no way she could be attracted to Pete Wentz the rockstar. Not only was he five years older, so that was creepy, but he was the kind of insecure arrogance that she could not stand. Maybe she was just protective. Maybe she cared about him as a friend and wanted to protect him from himself.

            But she really had no right to do that. She had only known him for a week and he was his own person. He could do what he wanted as long as it didn’t harm the other guys in the band or Patrick. Julianna looked over at the sincere boy beside her, completely lost in the music his friends were making. Maybe that was it. He looked up to Pete as a role model and also considered him a musical peer, but Patrick was so trusting, vulnerable and honest and didn’t deserve to be led astray, whether intentional or not, by a guy he considered to be one of his closest friends. Patrick was good. He did not deserve to be burned because he chose to see the best in people.

            Arma Angelus finished their twenty minute set, then the stage crew came out to take away their equipment and stage décor to replace it with that of Relient K’s. In the fifteen minute intermission, Patrick turned to Julianna, his green eyes bright with excitement and his face lit up with a huge grin. He reached up to scratch his forehead under his beanie, slightly skewing the grey hat to reveal more of his thin blonde hair, then he replaced his hat again and Julianna thought it was the cutest instinctive gesture she had ever seen. This boy was absolutely adorable and he had no idea. That was what attracted her to him, or at least partly.

            “What’d you think?” he asked.

            “There are no words,” she answered. “Those boys are going places. God, Patrick, you really should play live with them.” She rested her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him in her exuberance. “With you playing, the band is that much fuller and it adds more rhythm to their sound. I mean, the four of them are fine, but what I heard in your basement was dynamite.”

            Patrick looked down at the ground, scuffing one of his black chucks against the grass, “Yeah, yeah, but I—“

            “You made a promise to your mom, I know,” Julianna interrupted, waving her hand dismissively, “but, seriously, Patrick, you’ve got so much talent and a love for music that it would be a shame to see it go to waste. I mean, what if the band breaks up in two years? You gotta live in the now, man, because nothing is promised.”

            He couldn’t keep up with this girl! One day she was cynical and distant, and the next she’s all carpe diem. Right now, she sounded a lot like Pete. Luckily, he didn’t have to respond because the next band came out onto the stage. Patrick had never heard of Relient K, but they were really good. They were definitely punk rock, probably influenced by many of the same bands as Arma Angelus, but all their vocals were clean and their lyrics were more inspirational or tongue-in-cheek than angry or political. It was nice for a change of pace, and the lead singer had fantastic live vocals. Patrick hoped they could make it as a band in the rough, politically-charged punk rock scene because they could be a game changer in the genre; a softer, gentler, more carefree side that still rocked but also appealed to kids who were not necessarily “emo” or “punk”. He hated those labels. Why couldn’t music just be what it was, and if a person liked it then so be it. Pete and Tim, for sure, would disagree with him, and he was sure they did not consider this band to be punk rock because of their uplifting lyrics and lack of screaming, but Patrick was inspired. He did want to leave some sort of legacy on pop music, to make a difference in the scene, to inspire some kid to push boundaries and think outside the boundaries of genres and rules. The Beatles did it with their compositions, Michael Jackson and David Bowie crossed the line between rock and pop, so Patrick knew it could be done successfully.

            Julianna seemed to enjoy Relient K’s style, too. She was rocking out to the harder songs with her hands in the air, and swaying to the beat of the gentler songs. He was impressed with her musical knowledge and appreciation. He had never known a girl as attractive, confounding and magnetic as this girl. Yes, he had crushes; most recently, on the first chair clarinet player in the jazz band, until he found out she had begun dating a senior basketball player halfway through last year. All of his crushes had been unrequited. He never had hope that maybe she liked him back. This time, though, he had hope, and the fact that his friends really liked her, and she liked them, was enough to make his heart soar.

            Flatfoot 56, of course, put on a great show, probably the best show of the night since they were the headliner and about one contract dispute away from being signed to a major label. According to Tim, who was good friends with the drummer and guitarist in the band, they had to come to an agreement on legal fees and commission for their manager before the record deal was official. After the encore, Patrick and Julianna, still giddy and half deaf, made their way backstage as discreetly as possible. They went the long way, sneaking off to the side of the stage away from the crowd, then walking around the backstage area to the metal door on the other side of the outdoor venue that led to the green rooms behind the stage.

            The backstage area was just as chaotic as the crowd beyond the stage trying to get to the merchandise tables or jostling to get closer to the stage to meet a couple members of the bands. But backstage, there were venue officials and stage crew members everywhere, clearing out equipment, trying to avoid running into each other in the narrow hallway between the green rooms and the actual stage. Julianna grabbed the back of Patrick’s shirt so they wouldn’t be separated as he made his way through the mass of people like a salmon trying to swim upstream, finally arriving at Arma Angelus’ green room.

            “Baaahhhh!” Andy exclaimed, jumping up and down and gripping Patrick’s shoulders in his excitement. Joe was only a little more sedate as he came up to Julianna and swept her into a big, sweaty hug.

            “That was awesome!” Joe buzzed with energy. He released the girl from his tight grip and did the same to Patrick.

            “You guys are my heroes! Ohmygod, can I have your autograph?” Patrick joked in a high-pitched voice, imitating an obsessed fangirl. He firmly patted Joe on the back as they separated from their man hug. Tim and Pete were noticeably absent so Julianna figured they stayed behind to meet and greet fans.

            “Dude, did you hear that chord change in the third song? It was flawless!” Joe ran both hands through his dark curls, pushing them down on his sweaty scalp, but his stubborn hair just popped back up and fell down over his ears and forehead.

            “Hell yeah!” Patrick shared in his best friend’s happiness because he had first-hand knowledge of how hard Joe had been working on that change.

            “What did you think of your first Arma Angelus show?” Andy asked Julianna, draping one tattooed arm across her shoulders.

            Julianna smiled at the normally calm, soft-spoken man, “You guys were so good! It sounds different in a venue than it does in a basement. Definitely louder.”

            “We rocked that crowd,” Andy said happily.

            “All five of them,” Joe joked and Andy busted up laughing. It wasn’t all that funny, but at 9 o’clock at night, running on post-show enthusiasm, they thought they were hilarious. Julianna and Patrick chuckled, too.

            “Someday, man,” Andy shook his head, “Someday it will be us they’re coming to see.”

            “Hey, you’ve already got two,” Julianna jabbed the older man in the ribs with her elbow. “I don’t know about Patrick, but I wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for your guys.” Andy grinned wide at her and squeezed her close to his side in a brotherly hug then dropped his arm from her shoulders.

            “Guys, I need to call Lindsay,” Joe informed them, picking up his cell phone from the side table by the couch, where it had been since Arma Angelus took the stage. He checked his text messages, then excused himself to call his girlfriend.

            “Homeboy is in big trouble,” Andy commented as Joe walked away. Patrick scrunched up his face in confusion. He had no idea what Andy was talking about, but Julianna did because she was nodding her head in agreement. He let it go for now, though. Joe was his best friend and if something or someone was bothering him, he would tell Patrick in his own time. Right now, they were happy and celebrating another successful Arma Angelus show, and Patrick was not about to be the buzz kill.

            “Hey, we’re going to the Bottom Lounge down the street to hang out with the other band dudes and the crew. You wanna come?” Andy asked Julianna. She looked at Patrick as if to ask if he was going too, since he was her ride. He indicated with a head nod that he was.

            “Sure thing!” Julianna answered. She was amazed at how quickly her life had changed. A week ago, she was biding her time in Glenview, anticipating the day she graduated high school and could get out of town. Now, she was at a punk rock concert with a cute boy, hanging out with semi-professional and hopeful musicians, and she was enjoying every minute of it. Just then, Pete and Tim burst through the door, talking animatedly and bouncing like rowdy school children.

            “Hey hey!” Pete announced himself, holding his arms wide and slightly cocking his head to the side, a huge grin lighting up his face. “So?”

            “Mmm-mmm,” Julianna shook her head but was also smiling, “I’m not gonna inflate your ego even more, Pete.”

            “Aww, you hurt me,” Pete pouted and dropped his arms.

            “Someone has to,” Julianna shrugged. “Those girls out there weren’t enough?”

            “Oh, they were _fine_ ,” Pete drew out the last word, sounding kind of pervy, but he didn’t seem to care how he came across. He was the most unapologetic person Julianna had ever met, and she liked it because she never had to guess with him. She did not agree with some of his views and the way he chose to live, but he was who he was and no one was going to take that from him. Pete draped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. He was sweaty and smelled like a mix of his own deodorant and various girls’ perfumes. Oddly, it wasn’t repulsive. “But you know you’re my one and only,” he batted his long eyelashes at the younger girl.

            “You won’t sway me, Mr. Wentz,” Julianna laughed, playfully pushing against his chest to break free, but his grip was strong. He gently squeezed her shoulders, bringing her whole body closer to his for a brief moment. He vigorously shook his head, flinging droplets of sweat onto Julianna. “Gross!” she protested, applying more force to his chest. He laughed and released her, bounding off to join Andy and Patrick’s conversation. By now, Joe was back from his phone call and chatting it up with Tim. Julianna walked closer to them in order to grab a stray towel off the couch, wiping Pete’s sweat from her face, arms and hands. She could hear Tim and Joe talking about the two bands that played after them tonight. Joe smiled and motioned her over with a slight nod of his head, a no-words-required invitation.

            Tim was saying something about how he thought the bands were good musically, but he wished they were more controversial and political with their lyrics. Joe asked him what he meant by that, though Julianna sensed he already knew.

            “I just wish rock music, or punk rock, or whatever you want to call it, would go back to its roots sometimes, you know. Like, The Damned, The Voidoids, Sex Pistols. Those bands were all about rebellion and anti-establishmentarianism, rejecting societal norms to change minds. Then we got Black Flag, Bad Brains, Misfits, who inspired bands like Green Day and The Offspring. You know, all these great bands who write about social justice and putting up a middle finger to the corrupt politicians, breaking down walls of segregation and sexism. Now we’ve got these supposedly ‘punk’ bands singing about girls and shit.”

            “I hear what you’re saying, man, and I would tend to agree with you, but think about it. Those bands we love pushed boundaries and did unexpected things to create this punk rock or rock genre that we put ourselves in, and now there’s this whole emo punk rock sub-culture that has rules and stereotypes and is constantly changing and defining or redefining itself. I think that’s what these guys are trying to do. They’re rebelling against what is now accepted as punk rock culture. The music matches, but the lyrics are generally more upbeat rather than angry. There _are_ terrible bands out there calling themselves punk, but the Relient K guys, I think, are legit.”

            “I disagree,” Tim shook his head adamantly. “The fuck-it-all attitude and music go together. You can’t have one without the other.”

            Julianna disagreed, and Joe did too, but she didn’t know them well enough, especially Tim, to get in the middle of this debate. She was also fairly certain Tim did not respect her opinions anyway.

            “Dude, how can you even say that?!” Joe asked incredulously, pulling at the sides of his curly hair in frustration. “Music is meant to be fluid, not tied down to some rules or whatever the hell restrictions people try to put on it. That’s what they’re saying in a passive-aggressive way. They’re saying ‘fuck you, we’re gonna make the music we want to make’. Man, if all bands did that, there’d be, like, a fucking rock revolution!” Joe’s voice became louder and his movements more animated as he got excited, and Julianna couldn’t tell yet if he was mad at Tim or just passionate about his disagreement of Tim’s opinion. Joe looked at the girl, his big blue eyes wide. “What do you think, Julianna?”

            She held up her hands in surrender, “I’m not taking sides in this rather heated debate, but I will give my opinion since you asked. I think Relient K was great and a breath of fresh air in a generally depressing genre of music.”

            “Oh my god!” Tim exclaimed, turning his head away and scratching at the back of his neck. She was sure he rolled his eyes and thought she was a brainless bimbo, but she got the feeling he felt that way about a lot of girls. Tim was an intellectual, politically aware, but he came across as a sexist know-it-all. She wondered if he knew that.

            “See,” Joe pursed his lips and looked at Tim again, “those guys are gonna do great things for rock music in the twenty-first century.”

            “Agree to disagree, man,” Tim clapped the younger man on his shoulder, then walked off to start picking up his laptop and other equipment he might have left lying around.

            “I think you’re right,” Julianna shrugged one shoulder, the right corner of her mouth lifting in a sardonic smirk.

            “Yeah, he knows it too. He’s just too damn stubborn,” Joe said. He turned his left wrist to look down at his watch. “Oh geez, we need to get going.”

            “Can’t you just show up at an after party? Like, isn’t it cool to be fashionably late?”

            Joe laughed a little, “Yeah, when you’re famous and don’t have a curfew.”

            “Are you kidding me?” Julianna teased, feigning surprise. “The rebellious, cool Joe Trohman has a curfew?”

            He grinned and shrugged, “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my street cred.”

            Julianna laughed. For all his seriousness and blunt responses, Joe was really funny when he wanted to be.

            “You want to help me pack up my guitars and shit so they’re not waiting on me?” Joe asked.

            “Sure. What do you want me to do?” Julianna said, looking around for stray guitars and equipment.

            “Um, all the six strings in this room are mine,” Joe also looked around the room, trying to remember where he left all his instruments. “I think there’s one acoustic and three electrics lying around, so if you find one, the cases are all stacked in the corner over there.” He pointed to a messy pile of black guitar cases haphazardly laying in the far corner of the room where Tim had been sitting earlier. Some of the cases were decorated with stickers indicating the brand of guitar and/or bands the guys liked, and all of them looked well-loved and well-traveled. “Mine are the non-stickered ones. It doesn’t matter which guitar goes in which case,” Joe explained in his lilting, joking way. He walked across the room to where Patrick, Andy and Pete were still standing together. Patrick talked animatedly with his hands as Andy and Pete listened. Joe picked up a black electric guitar that was leaning against the wall. Julianna noticed a white electric laying across the couch. She picked it up and carried it over to the mess of guitar cases, pulling a plain black hard case from the pile. She knelt down to open the case and set the guitar inside the red felt.

            Soon, all the guitars, drums and equipment were cleaned up and loaded into the band’s van, and everyone was ready to move the party to the Bottom Lounge. Joe, Andy, Tim and Pete piled in the van while Patrick and Julianna followed in his car. Julianna expected to walk into a rowdy, dimly lit bar full of people in various stages of dress and intoxication, but when they actually arrived and walked into the Lounge it was much less crowded than she anticipated. As she scanned the room, she soon realized that everyone looked familiar. The Relient K band members and crew were scattered all over the large room talking to the band members and crew of Flatfoot 56. Some of the venue staff and security guards were there, too. And, of course, there were groupies and fangirls. The jukebox in the corner was playing Blink-182’s “All the Small Things”. Some men and women were dancing, drinks in hand, in the center of the room, while others sat at the bar or at the tables set up around the edges of the room.

            “Hey, Chris!” Pete called out and waved at a tall, heavily-tattooed guy at the bar.

            “Petey!” the man, apparently named Chris, turned around on his barstool and threw his arms up excitedly, waving the group over. There were two empty Corona bottles on the bar in front of him, and he was holding a third beer bottle that was half-full. A slightly shorter, stockier guy sat on the bar stool next to Chris, his hand wrapped around the handle of a pint of some sort of frothy amber liquid. Pete greeted his friend Chris with a handshake thing that turned into a man hug, then took a seat on the stool to the left of him. Tim sat on the other man’s right, and the rest of them crowded around.

            “Awesome show tonight, man,” Chris slapped hands with Joe, then took a swig from his bottle.

            “Thanks,” Joe responded.

            “Damn, Chris, is this your third beer?” Pete pointed at the bottle in his tipsy friend’s hand.

            “I waited for you guys to show up before partaking of the hard liquor.” Chris then noticed Julianna standing half behind Patrick and Andy. He turned his stool to face her fully. “And who is this angel you brought along? Oh my god, Patrick, is she your...” Julianna blushed and looked at Patrick’s face. He was looking at his feet.

            “No,” Pete shook his head, grinning. “I asked the same thing, man. This is Julianna. She goes to school with Joe and Patrick.”

            “Chris,” the near-drunk man lifted his beer bottle in salute, “I’m available.” Pete laughed as Julianna and Patrick both became new shades of red.

            “Shut up, man,” Patrick chuckled and shuffled his feet, trying to hide his embarrassment, grateful for the dim lighting in the bar. He glanced over his shoulder at Julianna. She was looking down at her hands, picking at her fingernails as if she suddenly discovered a very interesting hangnail, her long, wavy hair falling over her cheeks. Thankfully, the bartender walked over and set four shot glasses full of clear, hard liquor on the bar. Pete, Chris, Joe and Tim each grabbed a shot glass.

            “To the rock gods!” Chris exclaimed, holding his shot glass up. The four men clinked their glasses and downed the shots, then slammed the glasses upside down on the bar. It shocked Julianna that underaged Joe was able to, but also chose to, drink the shot, but she didn’t say anything and tried to play it off like this was normal. Like she always went to parties where older men allowed, and even encouraged, teenaged boys to drink. Would Patrick have participated if she weren’t with him?

            Andy wandered off to talk to the drummer of Flatfoot 56, and Tim became engrossed in a conversation with the guy sitting next to him. Patrick noticed the lead singer and guitarist for Relient K sitting at a table near the jukebox. He was alone, his head bent as his thumbs scurried over the Blackberry in his hands, and Patrick figured he was either typing out a text message or playing a game. Either way, it was an opportunity to congratulate him on the show and ask a few questions, but he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to leave Julianna at the bar with Pete, Joe and Chris. Knowing them, they would have her drunk out of her mind by the end of the night, and he would be left carrying her home and explaining himself to her parents.

            Pete ordered two beers. The bartender checked his ID because it was the law, but Patrick knew one of the drinks was for Joe. The bar was busy, though, and the bartender, who was working solo, either didn’t have time to notice or didn’t care that Chris and Pete were buying drinks for their teenaged friend. Tim and the other guy, whose name was Brian, left the bar to talk to some crew guys sitting around a table at the back of the room, and Joe immediately took the seat Brian had vacated.

            “Julianna, I’m gonna go over and talk to the guy from Relient K,” Patrick informed the girl beside him.

            “Stay here, Julianna,” Joe patted the empty spot next to him and took a swig from his beer bottle. Julianna really wanted to go talk music with those two guys, but Joe needed a friend tonight and he chose her. He would never admit he was feeling lonely and unwanted, but the slightly whiny timbre of his voice and his sad, pleading blue eyes were not the result of being drunk. He had only had a shot and a few sips of beer so far. Pete and Chris were more interested in drinking and hitting on girls than noticing Joe’s unusually needy behavior.

            “Yeah, you go, I’ll stay with Joe,” she said to Patrick. His brow furrowed as he glanced from Julianna to Joe, wondering what was going on between them and why he was not being let in on it. Julianna climbed up on the bar stool to Joe’s right as Patrick walked off. “Do you want to talk about that phone call you got earlier?” she pointedly asked the slightly inebriated boy.

            He shook his head, running one hand through his brown curls, “Mmm-mmm. I wanna drink!”

            “Hey hey!” Chris saluted with his nearly empty beer bottle. “You wanna drink too, sweetheart?” Chris’s speech was so slurred that Julianna didn’t realize he was even directing his question to her until Joe nudged her with his shoulder.

            “Yeah!” he widened his eyes and grinned at her, his stubborn curls falling down onto his forehead, making him look younger and more innocent than his sixteen years. She had the sudden urge to reach out and push his hair off his face like a mother caring for her sick child, but she quickly quelled that urge before she embarrassed herself. He set his now empty beer bottle on the bar. “Drink with me.”

            “Nope. Sorry, guys.”

            “Come on, please,” Joe pouted and leaned his head on her shoulder. “One drink won’t hurt.”

            “But you won’t let me stop at one,” Julianna shrugged him off. “You’ll whine and pout until we’re both drunk, and then my parents will never let me see you again.”

            “You care way too much about what your parents will say and do,” Pete accused.

            “Whoa! You don’t know me or my life well enough to make that assumption, sir!” she retorted.

            “Just an observation,” Pete held his hands up, palms out, in surrender, then flagged down the bartender again. He ordered four pints of beer this time. When the bartender came back with the drinks, Joe slid one in front of Julianna.

            “Drink.”

            “Joe, I’m not…this is illegal,” Julianna argued, but he just smirked and raised his glass to his lips.

            “For once in your life, Julianna, don’t think about the consequences,” Pete urged. “Live in the moment! Be daring!”

            “Hazzah!” Chris and Joe raised their pints and clinked them together as some sort of drunken affirmation. Chris was completely wasted at this point and Joe, being two and a half beers and a shot in, was definitely tipsy. She hated that they thought she was concerned about what other people thought…especially her parents. _Fuck it. I’ll show them._ Before she could think about the consequences or change her mind, Julianna gripped the handle on the pint of beer in front of her and tipped it back. The amber liquid tasted terrible; like old bread and potpourri. It was cold going down her throat, then she felt her body begin to warm from the inside out. She must have twisted her face into an expression of disgust because Joe chuckled and said, “It’s like sex. The first time is the worst.” Her cheeks flamed; partly from the alcohol and partly from Joe’s analogy. Pete laughed so hard he tossed his head back and almost fell off his bar stool. Julianna took another sip from the glass, but she still did not like the taste.

            “Nope,” she shook her head, scrunching up her face, “still tastes like a bread burp.”

            All three guys laughed hard at that before Joe clarified, “It’s definitely an acquired taste. Just keep drinking.” And she did. By the time Patrick was done socializing and came back to the bar, Julianna had two beers in her. Her head felt fuzzy and the noise in the room was suddenly too loud yet muffled and jumbled at the same time, but she could still see straight.

            “Hi, Patrick!” she said a little too loudly, her voice pitched up an octave, drawing out the last syllables of each word.

            “Hey,” Patrick stood between Joe and Julianna, “they bought you beer, huh.” He sounded like he was talking to a belligerent four-year-old, appearing calm and unaffected on the outside but really wanting to wring his friends’ necks on the inside.

            “Yeah, and it’s still gross,” Julianna’s speech was slurred. “I don’t know how you guys do this every weekend.”

            “Well, not all of us do,” Patrick glared at his friends as if to let them know they would talk about his later. Pete just raised his eyebrows in challenge, clearly not feeling threatened. Joe grinned like an idiot at Patrick, as if to claim his innocence, but his best friend was no fool. Chris just raised his glass in Patrick’s direction then turned to talk to Pete again. Danzig’s “She Rides” played from the jukebox, and Julianna slipped her arm around Patrick’s waist, pressing herself up against his side.

            “Hey, you wanna dance?”

            For several seconds, Patrick froze but his heart felt like it was in his throat. Her smile was so genuine, her dark eyes twinkling in the dim bar lighting, and he knew she was fully aware of what she was doing. Before he could even respond, she had hopped off the bar stool and was grabbing his hand, leading him to the dance floor in the center of the room. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and he hesitantly rested his hands on her hips. Uninhibited due to the alcohol, Julianna moved her body to the rhythm of the punk rock song coming through the speakers, caught up in the music and ambiance of the night. She met the short boy’s gaze, grinning at his meek attempts to move to the music while also keeping her at arm’s length so as not to make any unwanted contact. He actually was not a bad dancer. The song changed to a mid-tempo ballad, and Julianna tugged on his shoulders, indicating her consent for him to press the front of his body to hers. Patrick burst into flame. He knew his face was flushed, his head was full of air and he hoped to whatever higher entity that may be out there that she couldn’t feel how turned on he was.

            “How come we’ve gone to the same school for years and I’ve never seen you before?” she asked, looking up into his face with her head cocked a little to the side. They swayed in place to the slower song.

            Patrick shrugged, “I don’t necessarily go out of my way to be noticed, especially by hot girls.”

            Julianna giggled, “You think I’m hot?” Her brown eyes searched his green ones for some sort of indication that he was lying, although she was not certain of exactly what she was looking for. In her inebriated state, she was not sure she would even recognize it.

            “Well, yeah,” Patrick decided it was too late to backtrack so he chose simple honesty.

            “Hmm,” she just reached up and brushed aside his bangs peeking out from under his hat, then she gently tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, her arms draped over his shoulders. “Well, I’m glad I was Joe’s lab partner and I’m glad I met you…and the rest of the guys in the band. This has been one of the best weeks of my life.”

            “Me too,” Patrick’s neck tingled where her fingers touched his skin, and he grinned at her. It struck him that he had to look down slightly to level his gaze with hers. He was a small guy but she was a good two or three inches shorter.

            They danced to two more songs, and as far as Patrick was concerned, they were the only two people in the room. She swayed her hips and danced close to him while he shuffled his feet and did his best to move like he knew what he was doing. They did not talk. Julianna just rested her head against his chest, occasionally singing quietly along to the song. When it was time to leave, Patrick did not want to. If he had his way they would stay in that dimly lit bar, filled with the din of his friends conversations, with their arms wrapped around each other, dancing to every song on the jukebox. But he had enough of a grip on reality right now to understand that they had to get back to it. She needed to be home on time or her parents would probably ban her from hanging out with him.

            He pulled back from her to look down into her face. Her eyelids partially hooded her big brown eyes and her whole body was relaxed, almost totally leaning on him. If his arms were not locked around her waist she would have just slumped to the floor.

            “Hey, sleepy head,” Patrick murmured, reaching one hand up to gently push a lock of her hair behind her ear.

            “Mmm,” a slow grin lazily stretched her face but her eyes remained half-closed.

            “It’s time to go,” Patrick played with the ends of her hair. She yawned.

            “I’m so tired.”

            “I know. That’s the alcohol.”

            She pouted but let him take her hand and lead her back to where Joe, Pete and Chris were still drinking at the bar. This time, though, Pete had a red-haired girl in a short denim skirt and low-cut top sitting on his lap. And who knows where Andy had escaped to.

            “Guys, we’re gonna go,” Patrick clapped Joe on the shoulder with his right hand. “Let Andy drive you home and don’t do anything stupid.”

            “Ahh, it’s fine!” Joe protested too loudly, his speech definitely slurred. His eyes looked blurry.

            “We’ll get home safe,” Pete assured his friend. He was only slightly more alert. The girl on his lap just gave a small wave of her left hand. Her right hand was speared through Pete’s dark hair at the back of his head. “See you, man.” Patrick gripped the hand Pete held out and they exchanged a brief handshake like they were fraternity brothers.

            “Say bye to Andy and Tim for me,” Patrick exchanged the same bro handshake with Joe and Chris.

            “Ok, see ya later,” Joe turned back toward the bar and his alcoholic beverage.

            “It was nice meeting _you,_ sweetheart,” Chris tipped his beer to Julianna.

            “Yeah, same,” she responded. “It was fun. You guys were great. I’m going to sleep now.” Pete, Joe and Chris chuckled.


	6. Chapter Six

            The drive back to Julianna’s house was quiet. She fell asleep curled up on the passenger’s seat. Her head rested against the window on Patrick’s old Glenbrook South High School sweatshirt that he had fished out of the backseat. He slipped his favorite Saves the Day CD into the player and turned the volume down; low enough to still hear but not disturb the girl sleeping in the seat beside him. He didn’t know how much she actually drank, but he figured it couldn’t have been more than one or two beers because she wasn’t falling down drunk. But she was clearly impaired. He just hoped she would be able to get into her house without waking up her parents because he really wanted to continue hanging out with her and getting to know her, and he wanted to see where their feelings might take them. Although, maybe he was just assuming the way being around her made his head suddenly airy and his heart thump harder in his chest was mutual.

            _But what does she really think of me?_ Sure, they had only known each other for a week and he was not a believer in love at first sight, but none of them had scared her off yet. He took that as a good sign. Sometimes, when it is just the two of them talking, he can almost see the defensive wall she keeps around her deepest emotions and thoughts start to crumble as she gradually shares part of herself with him. At that point, he begins to think maybe he has a chance. Then, things like tonight backstage at the show and at the bar happen and he feels like she views him as just a friend like Joe or Pete. _And what about Joe? He obviously has some personal problem, which Andy and Julianna seem privy to. So why didn’t he talk to me about it?_ Joe liked being around Julianna and formed a fast attachment to her, which wasn’t unusual because as aloof as Joe may seem he was great at making people feel welcome and included. That is why Joe’s relationship with his girlfriend was an enigma. They had been dating for nearly a year, but Patrick had only seen her a handful of times. She never came to shows, always claiming she had to work. Joe didn’t seem bothered by it because that was his personality. Or the front he put on. Patrick wondered if maybe they were not fine, though.

            Once he was parked in her driveway, Patrick reached over and gently shook Julianna’s shoulder, “Wake up, sleepy head. We’re at your house.”

            “Hmm?” Julianna slowly opened her eyes and sat up in the seat, grateful for the dark because her head was pounding. She pushed her hair behind her ears and wadded Patrick’s hoodie in her lap then looked over at him, her eyes half-lidded.

            “Come on, let’s get you inside,” Patrick stepped out of the car and jogged around to open her door. She accepted his outstretched hand as he did most of the work to pull her out of the car. She let the hoodie fall from her lap onto the seat and shivered in the cool October air. Patrick wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close against his body for heat as they walked the short distance up the sidewalk to the door.

            “Thanks for the ride. Tonight was fun,” Julianna leaned into Patrick and turned to peer up at him when they stood in front of the door.

            Patrick licked his lips, suddenly very aware of his sweating palms despite the chilly autumn night, but he gave a lopsided grin like she was not making his insides feel like mashed potatoes, “No problem. I had a great time, too. I’m glad you came.”

            “Call me sometime, ok? Good night, Patrick.” Before her foggy brain could stop her or make her think about the potential consequences of her actions, Julianna lifted onto her tiptoes and pecked her lips against his cheek. Just as quickly, she disappeared inside her house.

            The teenaged boy stood still on the Toews’ front porch for several seconds, eyes wide, then his mind went from _did she just do that?_ to _why did she do that?_ He walked back to his car in a daze. He wanted to go to Joe’s house and ask him what a kiss on the cheek meant, but he was sure Joe wasn’t home yet – if he even went home at all tonight – and he definitely was not sober enough to have a serious conversation. Patrick knew for sure that Pete was wasted and most likely with a girl; plus, he didn’t consider the twenty-one year old a trustworthy confidant when it came to talking about monogamous relationships. Straight edge Andy would be sober, but he could potentially be with a girl, too. The guys already accused him of being a buzzkill sometimes so he was not about to bother them now.

            Once at home, Patrick tiptoed down the dark hall behind the living room, passing his mom’s and sister’s rooms before entering the room he used to share with his older brother, Kevin. He quietly shut the door, kicked off his shoes, tossed the hat off his head and collapsed onto the bed.

 

            “Ok, ok, stop! Stop! White flag!” Patrick was in a fetal position on the floor of his basement with Pete’s arm around his neck while Joe playfully punched him in the side and gut. All the guys were laughing hysterically, but Joe knew Patrick was quickly becoming annoyed.

            “C’mon, man, you gotta tell us what happened last night,” Pete gently clenched his arm around Patrick’s neck, gasping out his words between giggles.

            “Get off me!” Patrick pushed Joe, who fell back on the couch next to Andy, then he elbowed Pete hard in the ribs and the older man took the hint, releasing his captive. Patrick rolled away from Pete and stood up, adjusting his skewed T-shirt and jeans. Pete was still laughing as he got off the floor, too, and Patrick shot him a glare. “You’re an ass.”

            “But seriously, what happened last night?” Andy’s voice of reason broke quietly through the laughter. He pulled one of the couch pillows onto his lap then reached for the Playstation controller sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Pete turned on the video game console and TV before picking up the second Playstation controller and plopping himself sideways on the burka lounger, his legs hanging over one arm of the chair while his back rested against the other arm.

            “I already told you guys nothing happened,” Patrick retorted.

            “Agh!” Joe tossed his head back. “That’s so boring!”

            “Yeah, what if, instead, you walked her to the door then grabbed her and kissed her hard on the mouth,” Andy interjected, his thumbs playing over the controller in his palms.

            “Then took her to bed,” Pete grinned, but his attention was on the video game he was playing against Andy. Patrick punched him hard in the shoulder, and Pete busted up laughing again. Joe got off the couch, grabbed his acoustic guitar from where it was leaning against the side of the speakers and returned to the couch, his fingers lightly strumming over the strings. Patrick was perched on the arm of the chair Pete was sprawled across, watching his friends play their game.

            “Did you invite her over today?” Pete asked absently. Patrick shook his head. “Why not?”

            Patrick shrugged, biting his bottom lip, “I just wanted to hang out with you guys today.” He knew it was a lame excuse, and the way Pete stared at him with one eyebrow raised confirmed he did not believe it either.

            “Have you even called her since last night?” Joe wondered, his head still bent over the guitar across his lap.

            “Guys, it wasn’t a date!” Patrick protested.

            “Did you drive?” Pete challenged.

            “Did you get her into the show?” Joe chimed in.

            “Did you walk her to the door at the end of the night?” Andy added.

            “And you were the one who _danced_ with her,” Joe reminded his friend.

            “Fuck off! You guys got her drunk!”

            “Yeah, so we’re definitely not boyfriend material,” Pete joked. “Plus, you know, Joe has a girlfriend.”

            “Yeah, and what’s the deal with that?” Patrick quickly jumped on the chance to change the subject, but Joe narrowed his eyes and shook his head at his friend. Patrick chose to back off that issue again, wondering if Joe would ever tell him what was going on between him and Lindsay. He turned his attention back to Pete, who was currently being trounced by Andy in the game they were playing. “Whatever, man. So who’d you go home with, Pete? Crazy red-haired girl from the show or the sorority girl from the bar?”

            A slow grin spread across Pete’s usually solemn face, “Both.”

            “How are you not a walking billboard for STDs?” Joe wondered aloud. Pete shrugged. The smile was gone from his face, and the rest of them knew he was done talking about himself. The remaining afternoon was spent in Patrick’s basement playing Playstation and discussing the future of Arma Angelus. Tim was supposed to meet them around four, after he was done running some errands, but when he did not show up Joe called him. Tim never answered his phone, though. Joe figured he was probably out trying to schedule another gig for the band. Last night, Arma Angelus made five hundred dollars, which they split evenly, but they all knew it was going to take more than that to save up enough to rent some studio space.

            Pete and Tim started the band after meeting at a record store in Chicago almost two years ago. Originally, Arma Angelus was Pete, Tim and Chris. At that time Andy was drumming for a couple metal bands in the Chicago hardcore scene, and Tim met him when Arma Angelus played on the same bill as one of Andy’s bands at a small college show. He introduced the quiet, straight-edge drummer to Pete and Chris and they immediately hit it off. Shortly after that, however, Chris decided to leave the band because he was having financial trouble and he was not sure this was the path he wanted to take in life. Andy offered to be their fill-in drummer until they found a replacement, then the bands he had been playing in fell apart so Tim and Pete decided to ask him to stay on as the full-time drummer. Andy accepted and officially moved out of his mom’s house in Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin and moved into Pete’s apartment in Wilmette, Illinois. Arma Angelus played a couple small gigs in Chicago as a trio, but they still thought their sound could be improved with another guitar player, and that would allow Tim to sing and play rhythm guitar rather than having to remember all of Pete’s lyrics plus play the lead guitar part.

            The band auditioned three or four guys but none of them gelled with Tim, Pete and Andy, but then Pete met Joe and he fit in seamlessly. For the past year, the band had been solely working on establishing themselves in the hardcore scene; writing songs and cementing their set list. Now, they had five complete, final draft songs, as Tim called them, and about five more that needed some work but could be show or album worthy quickly. The next step then, agreed upon by all four members of the band, was to earn enough money to be able to go into a professional studio and record an EP that would be officially distributed by a record label. Tim and Pete were doing a lot of research and public relations and meeting with producers to make this a reality on top of continuously setting up gigs for the band.

            Patrick was the one Joe worried about, though. Knowing Tim’s impatience and Pete’s ambition to drive the band forward, Joe was sure they were not going to wait for Patrick to finish school. Even if he was willing to graduate early, Joe did not know if Tim was even willing to add another member. They didn’t need a drummer, which was Patrick’s first love, and Tim was not into adding keyboards or a third guitar part. He claimed it would make them sound too much like the songs played on mainstream radio.

            Patrick noticed Joe staring in his direction. He was zoned out, his eyes unblinking and his hands motionless on the guitar, but when he realized he was probably creeping out his friend, Joe quickly snapped out of his daze and focused on his guitar playing again. Pete tossed his game controller aside after losing to Andy again in Mortal Kombat and stood up from the chair to pace around the room.

            “Come _on_ , let’s _do_ something,” he pleaded, pushing a hand vigorously through his dark hair several times. “Let’s call Julianna and go walk the tracks or…hey, Trick, does your mom have any eggs we could have?”

            “No!” Patrick protested, “we are _not_ playing that game again! I had Grade A-sized welts for days and my mom was so pissed we wasted all the eggs.” Pete chuckled, his dark eyes creasing in the corners as he recalled the memory.

            “Aww, was the wittle baby mad he got some bwuises,” Pete pouted and teased his young friend in a baby voice, but Patrick did not find it amusing. The other two laughed, though.

            “No, no, absolutely not,” Patrick’s hands flailed, emphasizing his point.

            “What if we use marshmallows this time?” Joe suggested, his eyes widening as if he had the most brilliant idea.

            “But shoot them from paintball guns,” Andy added, excited to have something to do except sit around.

            “Will that work?” Joe looked over at Andy and his brown eyebrows drew together in a crease between his eyes.

            “Hell if I know but it would be fun to try,” Andy shrugged. “Or we could ride the dirt bike around and watch Pete wipe out again.”

            “Do you guys really think Julianna is prepared for these shenanigans?” Patrick asked. “I mean, we do want her to stick around, right?”

            “Dude, she’s either gonna love us or hate us,” Pete responded, “and the more she’s around, the more she’s going to realize this is what we do. Might as well just rip the Band-Aid off as quickly as possible.”

            “He’s not wrong,” Andy agreed.

            Patrick looked to Joe for affirmation, too. His best friend just shrugged his shoulders, allowing his body language to say Pete was probably right but the decision was ultimately Patrick’s to make.

            “Fine,” Patrick sighed. “I’ll call her.”

            “Yes!” Pete raised his fist victorious and did a little dance in place. Sometimes Patrick forgot that Pete was five years older than him, especially when he was hyped up.

 

            Some time later, as the light blue October sky became purple streaked with wisps of red-orange clouds and the full moon peeked out of the horizon while the sun went down, Julianna and the boys were walking along the abandoned tracks at the outskirts of Glenview. At one time, these rusty railroad tracks were well-used, carrying train cars full of coal, oil and grain from the southern farm country of Illinois into the northwest suburbs of Chicago. But, as the town became increasingly populated and houses began to spring up almost over night after World War II, the railway company diverted the tracks to run through downtown in order to also support the ever-growing number of passenger trains coming into town. Now, the three mile stretch of overgrown abandoned tracks surrounded by dense trees and brush has been a popular hang out of many a young adolescent in the town. Glenview Creek also ran parallel to the tracks and provided a beautiful landscape for couples wanting a private make out spot or teenagers looking to get high or large groups planning an alcohol-fueled rager without being caught by the police or their parents.

            Patrick and his friends just loved to hang out, walk the tracks and fish and wade in the creek, allowing them a sense of independence from the watchful eyes of Joe’s and Patrick’s parents. The leaves were various shades of reds, oranges, yellows and browns, slowly letting loose if their branches to float to the ground. Winter was on its way, affirmed by the chilly bite in the air and the weaning daylight hours. Pete walked in the center of the tracks, kicking up the crunchy leaves and pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his hair while Joe and Julianna balanced to walk on the rails, and Patrick and Andy just meandered along on either side of Pete. When Joe put his hands on Julianna’s shoulders to prevent both of them from falling off the rail, Julianna shrieked then laughed because she thought Joe was trying to mess around rather than help. Patrick looked away and focused his attention on his other two friends, attempting to deny the vicious stabbing sensation in his gut. _Where is Joe’s damn girlfriend anyway, and why can’t he seem to keep his hands off the one that I want to make mine?! It’s not like he can’t tell how I feel about her._

            “I swear to god I will throw you in the creek, Joe Trohman!” Julianna threatened when, this time, Joe did pretend to spook her from behind, his hands still gripping her shoulders.

            “Oh like you can even throw me,” Joe teased back, and she spun on her heels to face him, glaring.

            “You don’t know. Maybe I hulk out when I get angry.”

            Andy and Pete laughed at the reference and Joe’s wide-eyed fake-scared face.

            “Watch out, Joe,” Andy warned, “I think she’s serious!”

            “Yeah, watch out, Joe,” Julianna repeated, pinching his side playfully. He dodged to avoid her and ended up falling off the rail, landing on his feet on the rocky tracks. She laughed at him but reached out her hand to pull him back up onto the rail tie with her. All the while, Patrick watched their easy exchange and envied his friend’s laid-back demeanor. Joe was capable of making friends with anyone if he really wanted to, whereas Patrick tended to be much more timid and suspect. Plus, he was always so worried about being socially acceptable that he couldn’t just let loose like Joe.

            Just then, Joe’s cell phone rang in his jacket pocket.

            “It’s Tim,” he announced, flipping the phone open and saying hello. Everyone else stopped walking and focused their attention on Joe as he stepped down off the rail tie and knitted his eyebrows together as he listened to what Tim was saying. He was only on the phone for a minute, then he looked out at his friends and repeated what he had just heard. “Tim left the band.”


	7. Chapter Seven

            “Holy hell, what are we gonna _do_?!” Pete growled for about the twentieth time since finding out about Tim’s departure from the band. After the initial shock and explicit outbursts from Pete and Andy, the four friends walked back to Patrick’s house in relative silence with Pete muttering to himself every so often. Now, he was laying on the sectional like a psychiatry patient with his legs draped across Julianna’s thighs and his arm crooked over his face.

            “We have to reorganize,” Joe stated as he paced across the room, “decide if we want to keep going or regroup and form a different band.”

            “I don’t think we’re in the right state of mind to be making rash decisions right now,” Andy advised.

            “We don’t have to decide anything. I’m just saying we need to think about these things and talk about them….preferably sooner rather than later.”

            “What about Patrick?” Julianna asked, briefly glancing at the boy sitting on the floor near the coffee table.

            “Dude, can you sing?” Pete turned his head and peeked out from under his arm at the younger boy. Patrick looked terrified and like he was about ready to cry as he vigorously shook his head. “Oh my god, we’re doomed!”

            “Stop, Pete!” Joe whirled around furiously. “Just stop! This is not the end of the world, it’s just a fucking huge speed bump. We can work past it. I say we just mull it over for a few days, decide what we want to do and where we want to go as individuals, then make a collective decision regarding the future of Arma Angelus.”

            “Why don’t you just stand on the fucking coffee table next time,” Pete shot back, swinging his feet to the floor to push himself into a seated position on the sectional.

            “Listen, just because you—,”

            “Guys!” Andy interrupted harshly. “We are all hurt, confused and feeling a little betrayed right now, but yelling at each other is _not_ the fix.”

            Julianna looked between Pete and Joe’s tight, angry faces and the furrow of Andy’s forehead, but underneath the hostility she knew they were just scared. The occupational future they had planned together seemed to be crumbling. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding on an intensely private moment, and she wondered what Patrick was thinking at that moment. He looked wrecked; his shoulders slumped, his whole face was downcast, and he was just sitting there on the floor without saying a word, his arms crossed over his stomach like he was protecting himself.

            “Shit, what about the Halloween gig?” Pete asked. “Are we gonna that play show?”

            “I don’t know, man. We don’t need to know that right now,” Joe answered, still clearly annoyed.

            “It’s in two fucking weeks, Joe!” Pete reminded his band mate. Joe resumed his pacing, running one hand absently through his hair, his facial features set with worry and a tinge of anger. Julianna had only known him for a couple weeks, but she had never seen so much emotion in the usually calm, even-keeled guitarist. She kind of liked witnessing this side of him, though; being able to know what made him tick and what he was very passionate about. When those things were threatened or taken away, she liked knowing he was willing to fight for them, and he was discerning enough to think about his course of action rather than making impulsive decisions that could potentially hinder any progress. Joe was the polar opposite of Pete, who was all emotion and immediate action without much thought of the consequences until it was too late.

            “Ok, so what do we want to do?” Andy asked evenly. “Are we going to sleep on it and revisit this conversation tomorrow, or take some time to consider our options?”

            “I vote we take a few days to think about it, talk to friends and family or whatever, then meet up on, like, Tuesday or Wednesday,” Joe said.

            “Pete?” Andy looked at his roommate.

            After a slight pause, Pete sighed, “That’s fine.”

 

            Later that night, after the older guys left because Andy had to work in the morning and Pete just wanted to go home, Joe, Patrick and Julianna grabbed some pop from the garage refrigerator then returned to the basement.

            “Ok man, what is going on with you and Lindsay?” Patrick blurted out as he plopped down on the sectional next to Julianna and popped open his can of Dr. Pepper. He didn’t miss the look that passed between his best friend and the girl, Joe’s eyes silently questioning how much Patrick knew. Julianna just shrugged and opened her own can of pop then took a sip.

            “What makes you think there’s something going on?” Joe finally asked.

            “Nuh-uh, that’s bullshit,” Patrick accused. “You’re my best friend, Joseph Trohman, don’t play dumb with me. Julianna knows something, Andy knows something, and your supposed girlfriend is hardly ever around. Even less than when you first began dating. That does not seem like a healthy relationship.”

            Joe sighed and suddenly became very interested in his hands as he mumbled, “I think she’s cheating on me.”

            “You _think?_ You don’t _know?_ That’s a hefty accusation without having proof,” Patrick told him.

            “Hey! You’re supposed to be on his side,” Julianna back-handed Patrick in the stomach.

            “I am on his side!” Patrick defended himself. “I’m on your side, Joe, but I don’t think it’s fair to throw around that kind of accusation without proof.”

            “It’s not like she’s gonna come right out and say ‘oh, by the way, Joe, I’m sleeping with someone else’,” Julianna pointed out.

            “You’ve _slept_ with her?!”

            “Oh my god, Patrick, _chill out!_ ” Joe looked like he was about ready to strangle his best friend. “No, we have not had sex, but I think she’s banging a guy at work. She said she was working late last night, which is why she wasn’t at the after party, but when I called her after you two left the bar there was a lot of noise and loud music and voices on the other end….more like a party than a coffeeshop. And she talks about this guy Craig from work a lot. She says it’s just because he’s her boss and they get along really well, but I don’t know, man. I’m suspicious. Like you said, she’s been bailing on me a lot lately. Like, the day Lindsay and I were supposed to hang out after school, before Julianna and I did that lab, I was already halfway to her house before she called and said she was sick. But now, looking back, I don’t think she was sick because she was just fine the next day. Then, that Friday we went bowling, I asked if she wanted to come over to my place and she said she was tired, but as we were saying good night she got a call from Craig. I don’t know what to do!”

            “Do you love her?” Julianna asked. Both boys looked at her like she had suddenly grown another head.

            “Well, I—I don’t—I’m only sixteen,” Joe sputtered. “It’s not like I think I want to marry her or anything.”

            “I didn’t ask that. Are you in love with her?” It was more of a statement than a question this time. Julianna saw Joe’s large blue eyes change from angry to quizzical and pensive, then he met her gaze.

            “No,” he said bluntly, “I’m not _in love_ with her.”

            “Then there’s your answer.”

            For some reason, this little exchange of words between Joe and Julianna irritated Patrick. It seemed like they had forgotten he was even in the room with them, let alone sitting only a few inches from Julianna. He wanted to think it was no big deal, that he was just overreacting because he had a gigantic crush on Julianna, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why he was unable to just shrug off this thing between Joe and Julianna. Or maybe he was bothered by the fact that she did not seem to remember what happened last night and early this morning. She had put the moves on _him!_ _And now she’s acting like it didn’t happen?_ Ever since she showed up at his house it was like she was doing her best to keep distance between herself and him, both physically and emotionally.

            Last night, he thought they had taken a step forward in their relationship, but today it felt like two steps back. Maybe she was just hyped up last night because of the concert and being in the city away from her parents….and she was slightly drunk when she danced with him and kissed him while they stood on the doorstep. Patrick wondered now if she was only here to get closer to Joe. _Have I misread all the signs? It wouldn’t be the first time._


	8. Chapter Eight

            Pete, Andy and Joe decided to keep the Halloween gig they were scheduled to play. After sweet-talking Mrs. Stumph, convincing her that Patrick would not run off with the band, it was decided that Pete would take over lead vocals and continue playing bass. Joe would sing backup and play lead guitar, and Patrick would play Tim’s rhythm guitar parts. Andy, of course, would continue being the rhythmic backbone of the band, beating his drums into submission. After this show, however, the boys were going to put the band on a break until after the upcoming holidays and the first of the year.

            For Pete, that decision was heart-wrenching because he had put so much time and energy and effort into forming and promoting Arma Angelus. He had been the one to “discover” Joe, and when the kid joined, finally solidifying the band line-up, Pete banked on the idea that Arma Angelus would be his ticket to notoriety and a career as a professional musician. There was nothing he wanted to do, nothing he was better at than writing lyrics and playing his bass guitar. He did not care about money as much as he wanted people to know his name, and he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. And he wanted to do it with these guys.

            The show was actually a costume party at their friend Chris’s house. Patrick or Joe invited Julianna – it was impossible to tell anymore because she was always with them. They were like the three amigos. If you saw one, the other two were probably in the vicinity somewhere. It was all right, though, because all the guys in the band liked her and appreciated having her around. It was nice to have a female presence in the group that was more permanent than one of their girlfriends or casual hook-ups.

            By 9:30 on Halloween night, long after the trick-or-treaters had gone home, the party was in full swing, but the band was not expected to go on until later. Pete and Andy had arrived early at Chris’s house to help him rearrange the living room furniture, creating a dance floor, and made sure all the breakables were put away. They also went on a beer run and had arrived back to the house just as the first guests were pulling into the driveway.

            Now, Pete and Andy, respectively dressed up in full, furry costumes as the Mario characters Yoshi and Donkey Kong, were setting up their monitors, amp cabinets and instruments on the makeshift stage in Chris’s living room while a mixture of thumpy techno music and punk rock blared from the huge speakers in the corners of the room. Some of the costumed party-goers were dancing but most were just mingling all over the house, drinks in hand, chatting it up with their friends. Joe, Patrick and Julianna, or Luigi, Mario and Princess Toadstool, walked into the party with instruments in hand shortly after it began. While Joe stopped to talk to a couple friends and acquaintances he recognized from previous shows, Julianna and Patrick made a beeline for the stage – which was really a wooden platform in front of the huge bay window looking out to the front yard.

            “This is crazy!” Patrick had to shout at Pete over the noise of people and music filling the room. “I didn’t know Chris _knew_ this many people.”

            “He doesn’t,” Pete grinned. “It was a word of mouth sort of thing. You guys look awesome, by the way.”

            “Thanks,” Julianna responded, “so do you….and you too, Andy!” She called back to the drummer. He smiled and waved in acknowledgement.

            “Are you ready for this, man?” Pete asked Patrick, coming up beside the younger man and clapping him playfully on the shoulder.

            “Yeah,” Patrick straightened up from where he was plugging his amp into the extension cord snake on the floor, “I’m stoked. Ready to go. Let’s do this thing.” He wiped his sweaty palm on the bib of his overalls and adjusted the red trucker had with a blue “M” emblazoned on the front. Patrick was sure Pete had no concept of the meaning of “being nervous,” so he didn’t feel it necessary to let on that he was just plain freaking out. He had been unable to eat the delicious spaghetti dinner his mom had made for him, Joe and Julianna because his stomach roiled like a tempest, but he had forced down a piece of garlic bread. He was not about to embarrass himself or the band by passing out from hunger on stage during his first performance.

            “Hey, did you guys know Tim was going to be here?” Joe wandered up to the group and leaned his guitar case against an amp.

            “What? No!” the color drained from Patrick’s face. “Shit!”

            “Oh, way to go, Joe! Now the kid’s _definitely_ freaking out,” Andy came over to join the conversation, drumming his sticks against his legs to release some pent-up nervous energy.

            “It’ll be fine, man. You’re gonna be great,” Pete tried to encourage the now ghostly pale teenager. “Don’t let the fact that Tim is here bother you.”

            “He’s probably gonna be critical because that’s how he is,” Joe added, “but he’s not part of this band anymore so we don’t really care what he says.”

            “Easy for you guys to say,” Patrick mumbled, looking down at his red Converse. The boys went back to setting up their equipment and instruments, and Pete shot concerned glances in Patrick’s direction every so often. The kid looked like he could throw up at any minute.

            Julianna was helping Joe place his amp and monitor where he wanted them, and Patrick would look over once in awhile to see Julianna laughing at Joe’s antics, made especially funny because he was dressed up in overalls and a green trucker hat with an “L” on the front. Patrick knew Joe and Julianna had become really close friends in the past couple weeks, especially since Joe and Lindsay broke up and Julianna became his confidant. But Patrick also wondered if Joe had an ulterior motive in keeping Julianna so close, or if she chose to spend her time with Joe because _she_ had feelings for him. On top of the nerves, the thought that Julianna could be into Joe, his best friend, made him sick to his stomach. It was like that night he took her to her first Arma Angelus show and danced with her and drove her home, when she kissed his cheek, never happened. She treated Patrick the way she treated the other guys and never brought up that night.

            Patrick wished he could just blurt out his feelings like Pete was prone to do or find it easy to just start a conversation and have her laughing like Joe, but being around her made him so tongue-tied and air-headed. She was intimidating and emotionally fragile, and he definitely did not want to lose her friendship if he admitted his true feelings for her….especially if she didn’t seem to reciprocate them. Her rejection would probably crush him.

            But tonight he was not going to dwell on his girl problems. Tonight he was going to focus on the music and playing the best show he possibly could to prove to Tim and all the rest what he was made of. If there was anything Patrick was confident he could do well, it was music. He knew rhythms and guitar chords better than he knew his own feelings most of the time. Performing with these guys, playing these songs he has played dozens of times before in his basement, was something he knew he could succeed at, and he was determined to prove it to everyone else, too.

            After some tuning, the band was ready to kick off their set. Julianna stood off to the side of the stage closest to Patrick. She did not feel comfortable hanging out with anyone else at the party. Sure, she had met Chris briefly, but everyone else at the party was a virtual stranger to her so she decided to stay close to the band. And the fact that Patrick was playing his first gig ever tonight was a big deal. She wanted him to know that she fully supported him, and she wanted to make sure she could be there with water or a trash can in case he passed out or puked. As brave a face as he may put on, Patrick was already beginning to sweat, his cheeks were devoid of color, his eyes focused mostly on his hands moving over his guitar, and he kept bouncing his right leg to the rhythm of whatever song was playing through his head at the moment. The guy was a hot mess.

            Pete stepped up to the microphone and the room erupted in cheers. One guy shouted out, “Finally!” The band boys chuckled and Joe pointed in the direction of the voice.

            “Thanks, man,” Pete said into the microphone, his brown eyes shining even in the dim lighting of the room. “Happy Halloween, everybody!” The room cheered again. “We are so stoked to be here tonight. Thank you, Chris, for putting this party together and allowing us to play. We’re being paid in beer tonight.” Chris, who was standing at the back of the room near the speakers, lifted his beer cup, and the crowd laughed as Andy punctuated the joke with a snare-cymbal combo. Pete chuckled into the microphone, grinning widely. “We’re Arma Angelus.” They immediately launched into the first song.

            As usual, Joe was his frenetic self, not able to remain in one spot too long as he head-banged to Andy’s beat, his brown curls flying. Pete’s vocals were pitchier than Tim’s and he screamed more than sang, but he was surprisingly good at being able to play his bass part and remain at the microphone to sing-scream all his own lyrics. Andy thrashed and banged on his drums as hard as he could, like always. Then there was Patrick. Julianna could see the sweat pouring down his face from underneath the red ball cap on his head, and he stood in the same spot as if he was back in his basement. His head and body moved to the hardcore music, but his feet looked like they were glued to the floor. His playing was flawless, though.

            The party-goers loved the band. Some of them Julianna recognized from the show a couple weeks back, and some she knew were friends and stage techs of the band. The rest were either Chris’s friends or just random people that heard there was going to be a party with free beer on Halloween night, but the whole room was dancing or jumping or getting into the music in their own way. Most importantly, they were paying attention to the band. As she watched the four best friends performing in their Mario character costumes on the wooden platform of a stage in Chris’s living room, Julianna knew they could not give this up. What they had together as friends was special, but what they had as a band was absolute magic. She wondered if that was why everyone in the room just couldn’t look away from the four boys with instruments; because they could tell they were witnessing something unique, a new era dawning for this unlikely foursome that began playing instruments together in a basement.

            A couple girls – or women because Julianna was pretty sure they were at least Andy’s or Pete’s age – crowded up to the stage. The tall blonde, dressed as a sexy nurse with her chest bursting out the top of her blouse, kept smiling up at Patrick and dancing, obviously hoping to get his attention. Her friend, a red-headed cat in tight spandex that accentuated every asset she had to offer, held a drink in one hand and was making eyes at Andy as she swayed her hips to the music. They were too far gone to care or even notice Julianna glaring at them as several more girls rushed the stage, desperately hoping the boys would show them some attention. Pete was all about giving into their wishes. When he didn’t have to play for a measure or two of a song he would reach out to their grasping hands like a king to his subjects, touching fingers and high-fiving others.

            Patrick was too focused on playing all the correct notes and rhythms to pay much attention to the older women jumping and dancing around him, but Julianna felt something twist in her gut, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Whether it was jealousy or possessiveness of her friends or a combination of the two she couldn’t quite tell. She was still trying to sort through her feelings for Patrick and Joe while mentally kicking herself because these emotional attachments were not supposed to happen. She knew there had to be much more productive uses of her time than spending every waking moment, or so it seemed, with these boys. She should be focusing on her original plan of graduating early and getting the hell out of town, away from her parents. She wanted to go to a four-year art school in Southern California, which she was sure her parents would not be willing to help pay for. That’s okay because she does not want their help anyway. She was going to miss Jonathan, who was definitely on the path that their parents had blazed for him practically from birth. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he loved hockey – lived, breathed, and probably dreamed the sport – he probably would have been a hockey superstar even if their dad wasn’t insistent upon getting both of his kids involved in sports before they were barely out of diapers. Jonathan chose to play hockey and excelled, but Julianna never could get the hang of it, and not for lack of trying on her dad’s part. She could skate, and had been since she could walk, but as soon as that stick was put in her hand she became clumsy and uncoordinated. Plus, the equipment was so bulky and constricting, and she could not find the fun or even the satisfaction in chasing a little black puck around a sheet of ice. How was that going to make a difference in the world? It seemed pointless, useless to her.

            Music and art, though, those were what sucked her in, much to her parents’ chagrin. Her dad was disappointed that he was not going to raise the next female star athlete, especially since he had spent so much time teaching his kids techniques and skills, and Julianna just did not seem interested. But he was generally supportive of whatever his only daughter chose to do with her life. He just didn’t understand why she would choose a field of study in which financial security was not a guarantee. He wanted all the best that life could offer his little girl, and for some reason unbeknownst to Julianna he thought that included a stable financial future if not wealth to rival his own. Her mom did not understand creativity. The woman didn’t have an original bone in her body, and she was disappointed by her daughter’s lack of interest in building and maintaining her societal image. Her mother wasn’t a bad person; she really cared what other people thought of her and spent her life carefully crafting this high-class, philanthropic concept of herself in other peoples’ minds. Julianna, though, couldn’t care less what her parent’s rich friends thought of her, and she definitely was not going to waste her time building an image that meant looking down her nose at others or even discarding them if they became a liability.

            But this – being so attached to those four boys on that stage – was never part of the plan. Because now it was going to be much harder to cut all ties and leave when the time came. And these conflicting emotions over Joe and Patrick? What even is that? What’s wrong with me?! She wished she had another friend, a girl, she could talk to about this stuff.

            All too soon, Pete was speaking his final words into the microphone, “You guys are awesome. Thanks for listening.” Then they played the final song and it was done. Arma Angelus, as they knew it, was over indefinitely. The crowd began to disperse all over the house again; some couples went upstairs for privacy, some chose to make out on the couch and against the wall in front of everyone and God, men and women resumed the conversations they had been having before the band played, some just drank and danced, and others organized into groups to play games. Chris made his way through the throng in his living room to talk to the band members.

            “You were great tonight, boys!” Chris high-fived Pete, playfully punched Andy in the arm and ruffled Joe’s sweaty hair. His hat had come off his head long ago during a rather intense head-banging, guitar-thrashing session at the beginning of the set. Some girl had reached onto the stage and grabbed it, probably hoping Joe would come find her later in the night to get his hat back and maybe something else.

            “Thanks,” Pete answered, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel he found in his guitar case. He was so damn hot in the Yoshi costume, but he was not about to take it off. Halloween was his favorite holiday, and dressing up as oddball characters was most of the fun.

            “Yeah, man, thanks for having us,” Joe said politely, his guitar still slung across his torso.

            “So what’d you think of Patrick’s skills tonight?” Pete wrapped his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders and pulled him against his side. Patrick offered a shy smile, wiping the sweat from his own now ruddy face.

            “I didn’t even know you could play like that, little dude,” Chris grinned wide.

            “This kid has more talent in his pinky than I have in my entire body,” Pete praised. Patrick just pursed his lips in a wry grin and shook his head, undermining the compliment.

            “So are you gonna keep going forward with the band? Or do you guys know yet?” Chris asked curiously.

            “We don’t know,” Joe shrugged. Pete released Patrick, who went off to put his guitar in its’ case so it wouldn’t get damaged by the raucous partiers.

            “I think it would be a shame to stop playing as a band,” Chris looked apologetic. “The four of you had something dynamite up there tonight. Man, I’ve had live music at parties like this before and none of them have ever captured the attention of the room like you guys did.”

            “Maybe they heard about Tim’s departure and came to witness the train wreck,” Joe offered sarcastically, looking at the other three band members for approval.

            “Well, then they did not get what they were expecting,” Chris took a swig of beer. “Anything you want, you just let me know. I know Tim’s here so if he causes trouble or something…”

            “Naw, we’ll be fine,” Pete told him, then Chris wandered off to find more friends, playing the ever-gracious host.

            Julianna helped the boys pack up their instruments and roll up all the electrical cords so people wouldn’t trip on them, especially as they became more drunk throughout the night. But even as the party continued around them, there was a solemn silence, a sense of finality between the friends. Andy had taken off the headpiece of his Donkey Kong suit soon after arriving at the party, and as he and Julianna disassembled the drum kit she could see the resignation in his kind brown eyes. He sighed and pushed his wavy brown hair behind one ear as he gently set his cymbals on the floor then folded up the stand and set that against the wall. The other three boys had pushed all their cabinets and monitors up against the wall as well and stacked their guitar cases. Pete and Patrick sat on top of two of the large amps, their feet dangling over the side, looking like dejected Mario and emo Yoshi. Joe had wandered off to find some food and beer and maybe see about getting his hat back. Julianna quietly coiled up the last electrical cord and eavesdropped on Pete and Patrick’s conversation.

            “I don’t wanna quit this, man,” Pete twisted his fingers in his lap and sighed. “God, this sucks!”

            “Me neither,” Patrick agreed, softly drumming his hands against his thighs. “I mean, I didn’t even really get a chance to begin. I wanna do this…play music with you guys.”

            “Don’t quit,” Julianna blurted out. The boys’ heads snapped up to look at her, their eyebrows drawn together. “You don’t have to let this be the end, so don’t let it. You guys need a singer, right? Take whatever break you need for the holidays, then go out and find a singer.”

            Pete and Patrick looked at each other then back at Julianna. She suddenly felt self-conscious in her pink princess costume from Goodwill, giving her two cents where maybe it wasn’t wanted. They definitely did not ask for her opinion in this moment, but she hated to see them wallowing in self-pity. If being a band is what they wanted to do, then that dream shouldn’t be dashed just because one guy left the band, albeit a rather integral part of the formation of this band.

            “How?” Patrick asked. “How does that work? What does that look like?”

            “Hell if I know,” Julianna shrugged. “I don’t know anything about the music industry, but who says there has to be a formula for success? Why do you have to play by their rules?”

            “Yeah,” Pete nodded, his dark brows slanted over his brown eyes and lips pursed. Patrick knew him well enough to see his brain was working in overdrive now. If there was an obstacle to his dream, Pete would find a way around it or barrel right through it. Patrick wished he had even a quarter of Pete’s determination and perseverance. “Yeah, we make our own rules, Trick! If Arma Angelus is done, then we try something else…different. Like something that reflects the four of us, you know? Yeah, yeah, I like it. Damn, I love that girl!” He grinned at Julianna, showing off perfectly straight teeth, which looked blindingly white against his light olive skin and the dim lighting of the party. She couldn’t help but smile back because a genuine Pete Wentz smile with a compliment was a rare thing and she knew he meant it.

            “Hey!” Joe suddenly appeared at Julianna’s side and wrapped his arm around her waist. He was still hatless but was holding a red cup and his breath smelled like beer. “Come join the party, you party poopers!” Julianna noticed Patrick glaring at his friend as Joe hung on her. She wondered what his problem was. She was Joe’s friend, too. He had every right to be his usual touchy-feely-when-intoxicated self around her. Although, he was that way with her when he wasn’t drunk. Truth be told, though, she liked the attention from Joe, and Patrick sure was not going to make a move any time soon. She thought the initial interest between them – or whatever that electricity she thought they shared at the beginning – was a mutual feeling, but Patrick had not once brought up the night she kissed his cheek. He made no indication that he wanted to spend some alone time with her, either. When they hung out, Joe was always present. In fact, in the last couple weeks, Joe was the one initiating and extending the invite to get together. He really took a liking to her and she returned those feelings of friendship, but she also wondered if there could be more between her and Joe if she could just get Patrick out of her head. Also, why did he look…jealous?

            “Come dance with me,” Joe turned his big blue eyes on her and gave her that crazy, lopsided grin that made him look like an irresistable, mop-headed puppy. He really was adorable, considerate and so, so funny…but Patrick. He made no move toward her and didn’t seem interested in asking her to dance or find a quiet place to talk or anything. Fine, she thought. Two can play this game. If he doesn’t want anything more – and Joe seems to – then I will see where this goes.

            She turned her face to look at the curly-headed boy dressed as a Mario character and smiled wide, “Sure, Joe. Let’s go dance.” He set his cup on an amp and took her hand, leading her into the mass of moving bodies on the dance floor in Chris’s living room. Andy was in the corner by the stairs with a leggy blonde dressed as Wonder Woman hanging all over him.

            “Okay, little dude, let’s go have some fun at this party,” Pete patted his friend’s shoulder then hopped off the amp. “Maybe find you a girl and get, like, stupid drunk or something.”

            “I’m not drinking, Pete,” Patrick followed his friend through the crowd, headed toward the kitchen and the food and drinks.

            “I’ll drink. You flirt with the ladies. Those girls at the front of the stage during the show were into you. Let’s find them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're curious what their Halloween costumes look like....obviously Andy's is different is in the story.
> 
>  
> 
> [Halloween Costumes](http://cdn.buzznet.com/assets/users16/rociosolp/default/fall-out-boy--large-msg-135083274336.jpg?post_id=106526350)
> 
> Hi hi! I hope it's sun-shiney where you are and hope is alive. I added some more to this chapter...because I felt it was needed. Thank you for reading, please comment. I appreciate each and every one of you. Stay beautiful.
> 
> xo  
> ANS


	9. Chapter Nine

            Even with one beer in him, Joe was an excellent dancer and had incredible stamina. Julianna should not have been surprised what with all his jumping and spinning with his guitar onstage, but she just figured that was his stage persona. She was fast learning all that energy was boundless, despite his I-don’t-give-a-shit demeanor. And he seemed to be sincerely enjoying himself as they moved together in time to the wordless techno music playing through the speakers. His sweaty curls stuck to his forehead, nearly hiding his lively blue eyes, and she wanted to reach out and swipe them out of the way. She kept her hands to herself, though, because it was still fuzzy as to where the boundary between friends and more-than actually was. Joe and Lindsay broke up only two weeks ago after all.

            The song morphed a slow 80’s power ballad, and without thinking Joe put his hands on her hips and pulled her up against his body, then he took her right hand in his left and placed his right hand against the small of her back, gently leading her into a proper slow dance. Not like the shuffling of feet and awkward placement of hands with Patrick. She knew she should not be comparing the two boys. They were different individuals, she knew that. Joe was raised much like she was in the upper echelon of Chicago suburb society, and though he wanted to go his own way, there were still things that rubbed off. Like his ability to be a gentleman and lead a woman while dancing.

            “You’re surprisingly good at this,” Julianna grinned up at Joe, trying to keep the mood light and fun despite the rather intimate situation. He was close to six foot, several inches taller than Patrick, so he had to dip his head slightly in order to hear. Her breath hitched as their faces became just centimeters apart. Undoubtedly too intimate, and yet she was not sure that she wanted to pull back. Nope, she was going to let it happen instead of attempting to control everything.

            “My mom taught me,” Joe grinned as he thought about the memory. “She loves to dance. Actually, she and my dad met at their college winter formal, and she always said that a man should be able to sweep a lady off her feet. We watched a lot of Fred and Ginger when I was growing up, then my mom would try to teach me now to dance like that. I guess some of it stuck.”

            Julianna giggled softly, “Aww, that is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” She placed her free palm flat against his chest and felt his heart beating faster than normal, but that could have been from his earlier stage antics and the dancing. It had nothing to do with _her_ necessarily.

            “Yeah, what can I say, I’m kind of a momma’s boy,” Joe shrugged then casually brushed a strand of her hair out of her sweet brown eyes before placing his hand back on her waist. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know. I’m actually surprised you’re letting me lead right now.”

            “It’s nice,” Julianna shrugged and lowered her eyelids slightly, a slow, coy smile spreading across her full lips. _Ohmygod, am I flirting with my lab partner turned friend, Joseph Trohman?!_ “As much as I think I like to be in control all the time, it’s nice to have someone else take that burden even if it’s temporary…and while we’re dancing.” _Why am I telling him this? He doesn’t need to know about my weird insecurities. He doesn’t care; he’s just being polite. Come on, this is Joe -- laid-back, fuck rules, I can do what I want, probably gets high on the weekends Joe._ And yet here they were pressed together in a near-stranger’s living room and he was treating her with all the gentleness and respect a man should give to a woman. This is what she wanted in a relationship…right?

            “You know, you don’t have to be so stoic all the time,” Joe’s fingers gently squeezed her hip and he leaned down to press his forehead against hers as they continued to waltz across the floor, oblivious to everyone else in the room. “It’s okay to let the world know you have emotions and feelings.”

            Julianna closed her eyes and swallowed the purr trying to work its way out of the back of her throat, “That’s easy to say coming from a guy whose parents fostered his feelings and creativity instead of telling him they were invalid.” Joe drew her closer by sweetly pulling her right hand, placing it on his shoulder while both of his arms circled her waist, and this time she did let out a whisper of a sigh when he pressed his lips ever so briefly against her temple. It was so light and so tender that she thought she may have imagined it; that her brother was going to punch her and jolt her out of this dream world where a boy wanted to treat her kindly and actually wanted to be with _her_ because of who she was and not what her body or her rich family could offer.

            Joe quietly sang the words of the love song; something about heaven not being too far away. His voice was low and gravelly, rumbling through his chest. It was a pleasant sound, effortlessly smooth and on-key. Julianna almost didn’t want to say anything just so she could continue to hear him sing, but her curiosity won out.

            “Why don’t _you_ sing?”

            Joe actually leaned his head back and laughed out loud, his whole body shaking with mirth yet he didn’t miss a step, “You’re a funny one, JT.” She smiled at his use of the nickname he made up for her recently, then frowned at him to indicate she was not kidding. “Oh, wait, seriously?! That was a serious question?” His blue eyes looked like Lake Michigan when the high afternoon summer sun hits the water and makes it look like the purest, glittering blue. He was beautiful and he was gazing at her as though she was a slightly demented but still precious treasure. He cleared his throat and shook his head, “I don’t sing, JT. I will play my guitar and skip around the stage, I will play whatever song you want me to play for however long you want me to play it, but I will not sing.”

            “You just did and it was lovely,” she retorted, squeezing his shoulder where her right hand still rested. He chuckled and looked down, away from her gaze and… _is he blushing?_

            “I just don’t. I don’t want that much attention on me or that much responsibility. I know what I’m doing when I just play my guitar. I have confidence in my musical ability and I love doing it and I can do it well. Singing, not so much.”

            “Well, believe me when I say, whether you want it or not, you draw attention to yourself up there.”

            “Yeah, but I don’t notice it because I’m just doing my thing. Like a kid who thinks he’s invisible because he can’t see anyone anymore when he closes his eyes.”

            Julianna laughed lightly at that, “You are an odd duckling, Joseph Trohman.” He smirked back. Neither of them realized the song on the stereo had changed to a faster punk rock tune. They were still wrapped up in each other, swaying to their own song. Then suddenly his lips were on hers, his breath hot as he slanted his head so their noses didn’t collide painfully. Her eyes went wide for a second as she mentally caught up to what was happening physically, then she was responding to him. His lips were wet and firm and tasted of hops mixed with his mint-scented Chapstick. She liked it.

            Julianna felt this kiss all the way down to her toes, and her hands curled into the bib of his overalls, but only a few moments passed before he was pulling back and shaking his head apologetically, his eyes pleading for her to understand or accept what he was about to say.

            “I’m sorry, JT, I shouldn’t have—,”

            Julianna immediately pressed her index finger to his lips, “No. Don’t – don’t do that. I kissed you back, Joe, and _I’m_ not sorry.”

            His breathing came out harsh and ragged, “But Patrick – what about Patrick. He’s my best friend and this is the worst kind of betrayal.”

            “Joe, Patrick and I are not, and never have been, together,” Julianna smoothed her palm down his cheek to rest against his neck and collarbone. She pushed up onto her toes and captured his mouth again in a slow kiss, a token gesture to let him know she was not playing around. If he was serious about pursuing a relationship, then so was she. And they would worry about Patrick later.

            With eyes closed, Julianna gently worked her lips over Joe’s, and she thought she heard him let out a low, gutteral sound from the back of his throat as he responded. Soon enough, Joe broke the kiss and brought his hands up to cup her face in his palms. She opened her eyes to gaze into his half-lidded, lust-clouded blue ones, and he offered a lazy smile.

            “So this has been a pretty good Halloween night,” Joe ghosted his thumbs over her now-flushed, naturally tan cheeks. She chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. “Look, JT, I don’t want to do anything you don’t want or aren’t ready for, but I really like you. And I don’t want you to think this is a rebound thing because that is not my intention at all.”

            “I like you too, Joseph Trohman,” Julianna leaned her arms against his shoulders to play with the hair at the back of his neck, “and I don’t really know what this is between us but I’m willing to make a go at it if you are. You know, when we were assigned as lab partners, my original intent was to do the work and get out without emotional attachments.”

            “And now look at us,” Joe drawled. “If we’re being honest though I kinda thought we were….”

            “A bitch?”

            “Totally inaccessible.”

            Julianna laughed, “You can say it. A bitch.”

            Joe smirked down at her and shook his head slightly, “Do you have to be home at a certain time?”

             “Nope. My parents are at Jonathan’s hockey tournament in Michigan this weekend, so I can do what I want when I want to do it.”

            “Aren’t you just a little rebel,” Joe teased in that lilting way of his. She rolled her eyes, but her full lips twisted upward and she rested her cheek on his chest as they danced, pressed up against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spicy!
> 
> What's going on there, Joe and Julianna? What about Patrick?!


	10. Chapter 10

            The kitchen was hot and crowded, and Patrick was not interested in partaking of the keg stand challenge with Pete. However, when he wandered back into the living room and saw his best friend and the girl he wanted to be more than friendly with trading spit and rubbing against each other on the dance floor, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to vomit or run into the kitchen and let Pete funnel the alcohol into his mouth until that image was out of his brain. He chose to turn around and march back into the cramped, noisy kitchen where Pete and a dozen other guys were chanting and counting for their friend who was raised over the keg, his feet up in the air, as Pete and Chris’s friend, Brian, pumped beer into him. Patrick did not know why this particular party game was fun, but he did want the exorbitant amounts of alcohol associated with it.

            “Back so soon, Trick?” Pete’s eyes lit up as his young friend joined him again, but his smile quickly faded when he saw the frown on Patrick’s face and the hard set of his jaw.

            “Fill me up, Pete,” Patrick pulled a red cup off the stack on the counter and held it out to his friend. Pete’s brow wrinkled, his eyes darting from Patrick’s face to the cup in his hand then back again, but he filled the cup from a second keg near the counter. The teenager immediately threw back the alcohol, grimacing at the vile taste of the amber liquid, and drained nearly half the beer in one gulp. Pete stared at the underaged boy, unsure whether to be concerned for Patrick or to just let him do what he wanted because Pete had spent the better part of the year trying to get him to loosen up sometimes. Now here he was, gulping beer like a champ and holding the cup out for Pete to refill, which he did.

            “Take it easy, ok, buddy?” Pete patted his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t need you to get alcohol poisoning or something tonight. Your mom would kill us all.”

            “Who cares?” Patrick was already slurring his words as he tipped his cup back again but only took a small swig this time, still screwing up his face as he forced himself to swallow the bitter alcohol. “She’s making out with Joe and the band is falling apart so I might as well just give it all up now. Surrender to the fact that I’ll be stuck in his hell hole living with cats and playing pop covers at the bowling alley on the weekends.”

            “Yeah, ok, come on, Trick,” Pete grabbed the strap of Patrick’s overalls and pulled him out the sliding glass door onto the backyard deck. The house lights over the deck illuminated the small, fenced-in yard. There was no one around to hear the conversation Pete and Patrick were about to have. Pete pushed the shorter boy against the siding of the house so there was something solid to support him when the alcohol inevitably caught up with him. Patrick’s back hit the wall harder than intended but maybe it would knock some sense into him. “What is your deal, man? You’re not making any sense right now, and you’re definitely not acting like yourself.”

            “She’s in there….dancing with Joe. I saw them kissing. Wh-what about _me_? Why doesn’t she like m-me? Why does Joe _always_ get the fucking girl!” Patrick stuttered, his voice cutting through the quiet night and sounding too loud.

            “Are you talking about Julianna?” Pete clarified.

            “Yeah. I thought she was into me. She kissed _me_ that one night, and now she’s all over _Joe_? Slut!” Patrick wailed drunkenly.

            Pete’s hand came up to cover the teenager’s mouth as he sternly shushed his officially drunk friend, but Patrick fought against his confinement, turning his head and pushing Pete’s hand away, glaring, before taking another long drink from his beer cup.

            “First of all, I don’t think you actually mean that last part. And I’m not going to even try to reason with you right now, Trick. You are drunk and obviously mentally impaired.”

            “No, Pete, I’m fine!” Patrick protested loudly, rolling his eyes, but he was wobbly on his feet and holding a now-empty cup. “I need more.”

            “I don’t think so, buddy. Two beers in you and you’re plastered. I should’ve known your tiny body couldn’t handle much alcohol, ya lightweight.”

            “I’ve never had beer before,” Patrick frowned down into his cup, eyes glazing over and cheeks flushing as the alcohol warmed his insides. “It’s not good, Pete. It’s gross. I don’t like it. Why do you drink it?”

            “To be honest, sometimes I don’t know, little dude,” Pete reached out and grabbed the cap off Patrick’s head. The boy’s sweaty hair fell around his ears and stuck to his forehead. “But you gotta warn me next time you convince me to let you do something destructive. I’m all about corrupting you, but not at the expense of our friendship. I can’t let you go home like this, Trick.”

            “S’okay,” Patrick mumbled to the ground, “I sleep with you, Pete.” He looked up at his friend through half-lidded eyes and sagged back against the wall, unable to support his own weight anymore.

            Pete chuckled softly and ran his hand across Patrick’s forehead to move the thin blonde hair out of his face, “Not _with_ me, buddy, but you can crash at Andy’s and my apartment.”

            Just then, the glass door slid open and Joe and Julianna appeared at Pete’s side. Patrick’s frown deepened, his baby face lined with as much anger as his drunk self could muster.

            “No! I don’t wanna see you. Go away,” Patrick vehemently pointed at his peers. He did not like how loud his voice sounded in the still, cool night air, and his friends were looking at him like he was a sight they had never seen before.

            “What the hell did you do to him, Pete?” Joe turned on the older man. Pete held his hands up, palms out.

            “It was his choice, man. I’m not his mother.”

            “Pete’s a _good_ friend,” Patrick slurred. “Not like _you_ and _you_.” He shook his index finger in his friend’s faces and shrugged off the hand that Julianna had placed on his shoulder.

            “What are you talking about, Trick?” Julianna squinted her eyes at him, confused. “How much have you had?”

            “I saw you—,” Patrick began, but Pete quickly covered his mouth again.

            “Nope, we talked about this, little dude. Shhhh.”

            Julianna and Joe looked at each other, probably thinking their friends had gone off the deep end, then faced Pete again.

            “What is he talking about?” Joe asked.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Pete brushed it off, “he’s drunk and crazy. I’m gonna take him to my apartment. You’re invited to crash there too, if you want. Let Andy know I’m leaving, and Joe, if you could call Mrs. Stumph and tell her some half truth about her son so she doesn’t worry about him all night, that would be great.” He wrapped an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and slowly lead him around to the front of the house where Pete’s car was parked in the street near the short driveway.

            “Why are we leaving?” Patrick’s brow wrinkled as he stumbled alongside Pete. When they reached the car, Pete opened the passenger side door and helped his friend inside, guiding Patrick’s head to make sure he didn’t hit it on the car. “Where are we going?” Patrick asked sleepily when Pete got in the driver’s seat and closed the car door.

            “We’re going home, little dude,” Pete answered patiently, starting the car and pulling out into the street.

            “No, I can’t go home, Pete,” Patrick protested loudly. He wasn’t drunk enough to not think about what his mother would do to him if she saw him stumbling into the house in the middle of the night.

            “Yeah, I know, buddy, I’m taking you to my home.”

            “Oh. Okay.”

            Patrick passed out against the window during the ten minute drive to Pete and Andy’s apartment in Wilmette. Pete shook him awake, much to Patrick’s drunken chagrin, to walk into the building and up to their small apartment on the second floor. Pete’s English Bulldog, Hemingway, greeted them excitedly at the door, jumping up on Patrick’s legs and licking at his hands, but his inebriated state made him stumble and fall against Pete.

            “Down, boy,” Pete gently swatted at his big dog, bracing himself against Patrick’s dead weight to prevent both of them from tumbling to the floor.

            “Hey, Hemmy!” Patrick reached for the stocky dog and almost took a face dive to the floor, but Pete had one arm around his waist and the other crossed over Patrick’s chest to hold him up. The bass player was surprisingly strong for a little guy.

             “Okay, Mario, let’s just get you to the couch,” Pete tapped his palm against the teenager’s chest and all but dragged him to the big, soft, black canvas couch in the main room of the apartment. Hemingway followed at his owner’s heels, barking happily, hoping their company would be willing to play. “Quiet, Hemingway, he’s not here to see you.” Pete deposited Patrick on the couch and bent down to show some love to his dog, briefly scratching behind the dog’s ears and down his neck. Hemingway wagged his butt, excited to be getting attention from his owner, and licked at Pete’s hand and face. Pete laughed when his dog’s wide, pink tongue swept across his nose and cheek, then he straightened back up and turned to Patrick again.

            The teenager was curled up on his side with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Pete pulled the afghan his mother had made as a housewarming gift when he moved out off the back of the couch and draped it over Patrick’s legs, then tapped his own thigh, indicating for Hemingway to follow him into the kitchen. The breakfast dishes were still in the sink and there was a pile of cleaned plates and silverware sitting on the counter. Pete sighed and rolled his eyes at Andy’s half-assed effort to be domestic. The guy was by no means lazy, but it was like pulling teeth to get him to help out with the day-to-day cleaning and maintenance of the apartment. Not that Pete was a neat freak or a perfectionist, but he did like things to be in their rightful place or tidy at the very least.

            Pete grabbed Hemingway’s water bowl from the kitchen floor and filled it. He checked to make sure the dog had enough food before he tiptoed back through the main room, past Patrick, and quietly shut the door to his own bedroom. He quickly changed out of his Yoshi costume and pulled on sweatpants and an old, soft Iron Maiden T-shirt, tossing the sweaty costume into the dirty clothes basket in his closet. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. The alarm clock on the nightstand near his head said it was a little past midnight, but Pete was not tired at all. In fact, he was kind of perturbed at Patrick for making him leave the party early, effectively cutting short Pete’s plan to get a little drunk and maybe hook up with the large-breasted girl dressed as a cute Marilyn Munster he had seen near the front of the stage during their set. He noticed her because she had not been trying to draw attention to herself or force him to notice her; she had just been dancing and singing along and generally having a good time. She had looked vaguely familiar too, like maybe he recognized her from a past Arma Angelus show or something, but he never was quite able to connect the dots. Anyway, that dream was dashed because Patrick apparently could not hold his liquor and his tongue at the same time. Whatever was going on between Joe and Julianna was not worth Patrick running his drunk mouth and pushing a wedge even further between the fragile relationships they had with each other.

            Andy already seemed to have one foot out the door as far as the band was concerned because he was seriously considering going to college. Joe just could not figure out what he wanted to do in life, not that he needed to have it all planned out at sixteen. Although, Pete did not have much room to judge because he was twenty-one and still unsure of what he wanted out of life, except that he knew he wanted to make music.

            He heard a light scratching at the bedroom door; dog nails clicking against the wood as Hemingway begged to be let in. Rolling off the bed, Pete landed on his feet and opened the door for his dog, who immediately bounded into the room and jumped up onto the bed. Pete chuckled softly and shook his head at the dog’s presumptuous nature. Hemingway just panted, his big tongue lolling out the side of his chops, and watched his owner as if to say ‘This is my bed but I guess you can lay here, too. You’re gonna pet me, right?’ Pete settled onto his bed again and Hemingway laid his head and one paw across his owner’s legs.

            “Well, you look content, Hemmy,” Pete reached down to lightly scratch behind the dog’s ears. “I wish I felt as content as you look. I just kind of feel lost, like I’m trying to hold onto a dream that isn’t meant to be, but I don’t know what else to do.” Hemingway licked his human’s hand, grateful for the attention. Pete sighed. “Oh, who am I kidding? You’re a dog. You don’t understand what I’m saying. As long as you’re fed and given attention you’re content. I envy you sometimes, boy.”

            Pete grabbed a pen and his lyric notebook off the nightstand, opening it up to a fresh page, and began to write whatever came to his mind. He was not trying to write a cohesive set of lyrics or a song. He just needed to release some pent-up emotions that he wasn’t even sure he could name, so he wrote and hoped the metaphors and words coming out of his head would translate into some kind of meaning. Maybe the answers to his questions about life and God and destiny would somehow be found in the jumble of phrases, but he was not holding his breath.

 

            After Pete took Patrick home, Joe and Julianna found Andy in the corner of the living room with a tall blonde girl draped across his lap. He was visibly annoyed that his friends were interrupting his time with his lady friend, but the girl just ignored them and fiddled with her phone while Joe explained to Andy where Pete and Patrick were. Julianna took Joe’s phone and went outside where it was quieter to call Patrick’s mom and let her know where her youngest son was, leaving out the fact, of course, that he was intoxicated. Mrs. Stumph seemed slightly concerned but that was probably normal for protective mothers who were actually involved in their kid’s lives.

            “Just make sure he gets home by tomorrow afternoon—or today, I suppose,” Mrs. Stumph said kindly over the phone. “We’re celebrating his sister’s birthday in the evening.”

            “Okay, Mrs. Stumph, I will,” Julianna responded.

            “Thanks for calling, sweetie. You have a good night now, and take care of my son.”

            “We will, Mrs. Stumph. See you tomorrow….or today, I guess,” Julianna flipped the phone closed and went back inside. Joe was still engaged in conversation with Andy and his bored-looking hookup.

            “What did she say?” Joe asked, watching Julianna walk back over to him and slip the phone into the front pocket of his overalls.

            “She’s fine with it,” Julianna shrugged. “He needs to be home in time to get cleaned up for his sister’s birthday party. Of course, I didn’t tell her her son was not coming home tonight because he is drunk.”

            “He’ll be sober in a couple hours and sleep off the hangover,” Andy reasoned. “He’ll be fine. Now please leave.” The drummer inclined his head toward the girl in his lap and his friends got the hint. “Don’t worry about taking me home. I’ll find a ride or a place to crash.”

            Joe entwined his fingers with Julianna’s and lead her onto the dance floor again. He did not need to be told twice what Andy’s intentions with his lady friend were, and maybe Joe had a few plans of his own. The song coming through the speakers was a slow one, another classic ‘80s power ballad, so Joe grinned and pulled Julianna close, their bodies swaying to the music.

            “So what do you think got into Patrick?” Julianna asked, her large brown eyes shining up at Joe, but her dark brows were pulled together in a crease above her nose.

            “Alcohol, obviously,” Joe joked, but she only gave him a small smile. He reached up with his right hand and smoothed the rough pad of his thumb over the wrinkle between her eyes, hoping to ease the physical signs of her worry even if he could not totally take away her concern. “I don’t know, babe. I’ve known that guy a long time, but I’ve never known him to be a blatant rule breaker. Maybe Pete finally wore down his resolve or he got stressed over the unknown future of the band. I don’t know.” Joe’s hand trailed to the back of her neck where his fingers played with the ends of her thick, dark hair, twirling the silky strands around his fingertips then letting it fall through his palm to flow down her back again. He liked the contrast of her soft hair against his calloused guitarist fingers, and the longer he played with it the more relaxed she became in his arms.

            “Do you think he saw us making out earlier?”

            “So what if he did?” Joe shrugged and studied her face. “Would it bother you if he did?”

            She did not answer immediately, but Joe didn’t necessarily take that as a bad sign or an indication that she was hung up on his best friend. He was not a blind fool. He knew Patrick and Julianna had a mutual attraction or whatever right from the start, but nothing had become of it in the month that they had known each other. And if either of them were as into each other as they originally thought, Joe figured they had plenty of opportunities to make something more of it. But they never did. Patrick and Julianna, in fact, seemed to be moving in the opposite direction of each other, and after breaking up with Lindsay, Joe finally realized he was attracted to his new friend. He would even admit to himself that she may have played a part in the dissolving of his relationship with Lindsay.

            Julianna shook her head then laid her cheek against his heart, “No.” Her answer was quiet and succinct; no explanation or drawn out reason. But Joe didn’t need that from her. After all, she was here with _him_ , voluntarily dancing and kissing and holding him close. As far as he was concerned, this was the best damn Halloween ever.


	11. Chapter Eleven

            The future of the band was uncertain, but the status of the members’ friendships was much less so. The month of November passed quickly because they spent nearly every waking free hour together at Andy and Pete’s apartment or in Patrick’s basement. Joe and Julianna were officially dating, and Patrick was officially pissed off but doing his best to tamp down the jealousy. At the very least, he was still treating his best friends with decency and respect despite the roiling storm of various emotions he did not even want to admit having when Joe and Julianna were together. Neither one of them were into public displays of affection. It was easy for Patrick to pretend they were still only friends when they hung out a group except when Julianna would giggle at one of Joe’s stupid jokes or he would just look at her with those shining eyes and his entire demeanor would soften. Patrick wanted to punch something when he saw the emotions play across Joe’s expressive face; mostly because Patrick wanted to be so free-wheeling and open about his own feelings. But then that crippling doubt would fill his mind, forcing him to pretend to be what he thought his friends wanted from him rather than just being.

            The boys continued to play music together, mostly rock and roll covers because it felt wrong to play Arma Angelus songs without Tim. Those songs, after all, were half his. He wrote most of the melodies and some of the lyrics, though Pete often gets all the credit for his poetry. He was still writing, but as a whole the boys were not writing new music at this point. Shortly after that Halloween house party, they decided that Arma Angelus, the name and essence of the band that Tim had helped create, was done. Pete even posted and RIP date for Arma Angelus on his LiveJournal account, and suddenly it was all so real. They either had to start from square one and rebuild everything, or hope the small fan base of friends and acquaintances that they had would stick around and embrace a new band, or they were done completely. They had not decided if they were going to try a new musical direction.

            The four remaining members had such diverse tastes in music and different ideas as to what music they wanted to create. Patrick loved the art of Prince, Tom Waits and Elvis Costello while Pete was all fast bass lines and the rioting poetry of The Ramones and Green Day. Joe wanted guitar solos and the philosophical musings of Metallica and Led Zeppelin, but Andy really wanted to follow in the anarchist, rhythmic footsteps of Earth Crisis. They still did not know how to bring their separate preferences together and form a band they could all be proud of. Pete was not interested in playing music if the other three he wanted to write and perform with had no input. And he was certain all three of them felt the same way. Most importantly, though, they needed a singer. Pete hated singing his own lyrics, and he did not think he was that great of a vocalist anyway, unless he was screaming.

            Sometime around Thanksgiving, the boys – more specifically, Joe – found out Julianna could sing. They had been in Patrick’s basement just playing around on their instruments and Joe began strumming the opening riff to the Beatles’ “Blackbird.” Julianna’s voice carried through the room, clear, confident and pitch perfect as she joined in with the words to the song. Eventually, the rest of the guys found the tune as well and they had a fun little jam session of old pop rock songs. The boys played as Julianna sang. As beautiful as her voice was, though, she was not particularly interested in vocally fronting a band; especially not a hard rock band. And Pete and Joe wanted to keep the band a boys’ club kind of thing. They loved having Julianna around and valued her friendship and input both musically and personally, but the band belonged to the four of them. Julianna realized that and said as much when Patrick brought up the idea of having her fill in even if only for a few gigs until they figured out what they were going to do. Pete insisted, though, that without Tim it should just be the four of them. Patrick argued if none of them were willing or able to sing then the future of the band was shaky at best, and they decided to end the conversation at that point to avoid a heated Pete versus Patrick argument.

 

            It was the day Christmas break began for Joe, Julianna and Patrick that Andy announced he would be starting college at the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee. He was planning to move out of the apartment he shared with Pete and go back home to live with his mom in Menomonee Falls until he found a job and was able to pay rent on his own place. He was officially pulling himself out of the band’s future plans but promised he would remain in contact and try to get back down to Chicago to hang out with them on the long weekends and breaks.

            “Man, this sucks,” Joe pushed a hand through his ever-growing curly mop of hair and sighed. He was sitting on one end of the sectional and Julianna was sitting on the floor between his knees, her legs stretched out in front of her. Patrick, who was sprawled across the recliner with his guitar in his lap, looked away and focused on Pete, who was next to Joe and suddenly very interested in picking at his fingernails. Andy was laying on his back on the floor perpendicular to Julianna’s feet and was tossing a tennis ball above his face then catching it repeatedly.

            “Patrick can drum, dude, if you’re still thinking of keeping the band together,” Andy reminded his friend.

            “That’s not the point,” Joe said. “I’m gonna miss you, man.” Julianna patted his right calf affectionately.

            “It’s not like I’m dying. I’ll be around,” Andy caught the ball then tossed it back towards the ceiling. “Plus, I’m still the best fucking drummer you’ll ever know so when you all become famous I can say I used to drum for that band.”

            Patrick smirked, “So humble, but I’m glad you plan to ride our coat tails of success and rockstardom.”

            “Dream on, man, you’ll be riding mine when I’m managing you on my own record label,” Andy sassed in his quiet voice. Patrick, Joe and Julianna chuckled at their friend’s bravado, but Pete continued to frown at his now-bloody cuticles. He was physically in the room, but Patrick knew his brain was on another plane, probably in a whole different dimension. For a guy seemingly so open with his emotions, willing to write metaphors about his darkest secrets and share snapshots of his daily life online, Pete could purse his lips and slant his eyes and become emotionally unavailable to his closest friends.

            “Hey, Peter Pan,” Patrick chucked his guitar pick at the older man’s forehead. It hit him on the cheek and dropped in his lap. “Come back to earth.”  
Pete blinked a few times and turned his head to look over at his teenaged friend, then smirked and grabbed the guitar pick out of his lap, closing it in his fist, “Great aim, Stumph. You ever think about playing baseball?”

            Patrick ignored him, running the fingers of his left hand along the neck of his guitar, tapping out the melody playing through his brain. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Joe’s fingers idly stroking and twisting strands of Julianna’s hair. He felt his heart drop because Joe’s actions were so innocent yet so intimate. Patrick hated the jealousy coursing through his veins.  
While at school, he could almost forget about his two best friends dating because he did not have any classes with Julianna, and there was not much talking going on during Independent Music with Joe. Outside of school, though, Joe and Julianna were always together, and Patrick was there too as his friends usually preferred to hang out in his basement. Logically, Patrick knew these feelings – jealousy, bitterness, hurt, whatever they were – were not justified. He still felt them, regardless, and could not figure out how to stop the sick drop of his heart every time Julianna would take Joe’s hand, or the way his throat suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton when Joe would casually drape his arm around her neck and pull her against his side just to brush his lips against her temple. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to talk about this with Pete, who was as unbiased a third-party as he could find. Patrick’s mom struggled with the concept that her youngest son was of dating age, so she was no help. When his dad was around he did not want to waste the time they had together talking about his girl problems, and there was not a snowman’s chance in hell that he was going to tell his brother and sister about this.

 

            Between helping Andy move out and the general busyness of the holidays, Patrick never had a chance to get Pete alone and talk about himself for once. For Andy’s last night in Illinois, three days before Christmas, the whole gang went to the all-night bowling alley and Patrick suffered through Joe and Julianna’s sickly sweet PDA and not-so-secret smiles in each others’ direction. He played the worst game of his life, but it didn’t matter because Joe was on fire and they beat Pete and Andy in three games. Then the next morning, Pete flew out to be with his family for Christmas at their vacation home in Vail, Colorado. When Joe and Julianna called to hangout, Patrick politely declined with the claim that he had to help his mom decorate the tree or clean the house for the company they would have on Christmas Day. It was half-true.

            The Stumph’s had a Christmas tradition of cutting down and decorating their tree the night before Christmas Eve, and this was Patrick’s favorite part of the whole holiday because it was the one day his immediate family was together and getting along. Patrick’s dad brought his axe and saw, Kevin, Megan and Patrick put aside the sibling rivalry that was alive and well the other 364 days of the year, and his mom made little pfeffernusse cookies and the best hot chocolate from scratch as they strung the colorful lights around the sweet-smelling pine. As Patrick and his dad carried the tree into the house from the car, Kevin went ahead of them to start a fire in the rarely-used fireplace. It was Megan’s turn to pick the music, and soon their mom’s soul Christmas record played from the vintage record player in the corner of the room.

             Mrs. Stumph filled five of the largest, gaudiest Christmas mugs she could find with her famous hot chocolate and brought them to her family. She settled on the couch, sipping her hot chocolate, while her sons and former husband put the lights on the seven-foot pine tree. Megan vacuumed up most of the needles, and then it was time for ornaments and tinsel. They laughed when Megan threw as much tinsel into Patrick’s hair as she did on the tree, and they all gently teased Kevin for the obsessive manner in which he instructed them to put the ornaments on the tree. Their dad inevitably put three glass ball ornaments on the same branch just to get a rise out of his oldest son.

           Afterwards, full of cookies and hot chocolate, the family lounged around the family room just talking, humming Christmas carols and staring at the shimmering, decorated tree. His dad brought out his old Fender, Patrick sat at the piano, and the five of them sang Christmas carols until well after midnight. Patrick forgot all about Joe and Julianna and his impossible crush on the girl dating his best friend. He wasn’t worried about the future of the band or that thing he wanted to talk to Pete about.

            Reality came crashing back in several days later, after the gifts were opened and the Christmas leftovers were slowly disappearing from the fridge, when Pete called his friends to let them know he was back in town and wanted to throw a New Year’s Eve rager at his parents’ house, which he had been put in charge of until they got back from Colorado after the first of the year. The Wentzes told him he could have a party, but the house had best be spotless when they returned, and if anything was broken his ass was grass. Patrick, Joe and Julianna were over, helping Pete clean the house, remove all his mom’s glass decorations, fine China and anything breakable, and rearrange the furniture in the huge front room to create space to dance. The boys moved the TV, couch and recliners to the edges of the room while Julianna checked all the cupboards in the kitchen and carried all the China plates and glassware out to the garage for safe-keeping.

            “When is Andy supposed to get here?” Patrick asked conversationally as he and Pete carried the loveseat to the far corner of the big room.

            “Eight or eight-thirty. He said he’d be here right before party time,” Pete answered.

            “Did you guys hear he has a girlfriend now?” Joe added from where he was boxing up the decorations on the endtables and coffee table.

            “Yeah, some hot blonde. I guess they met at the gym?” Pete grinned.

            “Surprise, surprise, dude spends enough time working out. Glad it finally paid off,” Joe muttered good-naturedly.

            “Have you seen pictures of her or anything?” Patrick wiped the sweat off his forehead and resettled his trucker hat on his long hair. He either needed a haircut or needed to just embrace the flow while he still had hair. Judging by old pictures he had seen of his dad, Patrick didn’t have many more years left of hair on his head.

            “No, but he said he might bring her tonight,” Pete answered, resting against the newly relocated loveseat. “It depends on if she has to work tomorrow or something.”

            “Man, that’s awesome,” Joe said, “I’m happy for him. Hope it works out.”

            “I think it’s his first relationship that has lasted longer than a couple days,” Pete went over to help Joe move the glass and wrought iron coffee table in front of the windows, hopefully as a deterant for the drunkies looking to send themselves or their friends through the windows.

            “So going to school has worked out well for him so far,” Joe grinned and Pete agreed.

            “Oh, hey, nice to see you boys standing around, working so hard,” Julianna breezed into the room, her dark hair pulled into a high, messy bun on top of her head. Loose strands of hair framed her face, softening her features, and she was wearing a minimal amount of make-up. Patrick thought this aws when she was most beautiful; casual, carefree, her whole lovely face on display rather than being half-hidden by her hair. But it was like a spike to his gut when her brown eyes lit on Joe and she smiled shyly. He wished those brown eyes would look at him like that; with adoration, fondness and….love? God, he hoped they weren’t in love because he was sure that would absolutely kill him. He would need new friends if that were the case. As it was, being around them was torturous, wreaking havoc on his adolescent heart and emotions.

             Julianna went to her boyfriend, lifting up onto her tiptoes, pressing her lips briefly against his cheek, and enjoying how he bent down ever so slightly to meet her touch. Then she wandered over to sit on the staircase landing, exhaling an exaggerated sigh.

            “Hey, we moved all the furniture,” Pete shot back, mock embarrassment wrinkling his brow. “That’s hard work.”

            “Mmhmm, ok, you gonna decorate the room now?” Julianna leaned back, bracing her palms on the floor behind her, and rolled her head and shoulders to relieve some of the soreness from carrying heavy boxes of dining ware.

            “What’s wrong with how it is now?” Pete motioned around the room, now open, bare and devoid of Mrs. Wentz’s mix of modern and antique décor.

            “It needs something….like, festive or….I don’t know, at least balloons or something,” Julianna pondered out loud.

            “We have some stuff left over from my sister’s graduation party,” Pete offered. “I think there’s some balloons and streamers and shit.”

            “That’ll work,” Julianna shrugged and stood, still rolling out some of the stiff muscles in her upper body. Then she realized Pete had just roped her into doing something she had no intention of volunteering for. That sneaky bastard! But she had brought it up, and she was the only one in the group with half a brain capable of making the plain room look like a party room. After all, she had been witnessing her mom and professional interior decorators transform the Toews house for parties all her life – fancy dinners parties, Christmas, Thanksgiving, their house was always impeccable. Julianna was no pro, but she was certain good taste was genetic to a point. As much as she wanted to forsake the fact that she was her mother’s daughter, Julianna could admit that her mom knew how to throw a party.

            The four friends decided that Pete and Joe would go pick up the keg and snacks while Patrick helped Julianna string up the balloons and streamers they found in Pete’s parents’ basement. Patrick could not believe that just a couple months ago she had kissed him on his doorstep and they fell into a comfortable friendship until Joe swooped in with his big Jewish fro, weird sense of humor and dark good looks. Their conversation was stilted when no one else was around, like she could no longer find common ground with him. She asked how his Christmas was, and he answered in single words like a mute idiot. After an awkward pause, he remembered to ask about her holiday. She gratefully talked about how her extended family was at her house and her mom made sure the house was flawlessly decked out in red, green and gold, then her brother invited some of his hockey friends over because their families were in Canada. It was delightfully boring small talk, but Patrick couldn’t handle anymore than that in the moment.

            Pete and Joe returned soon after, the keg was tapped, and it was party time. Chris was the first to show up with his DJ equipment and a 12-pack of Bud Light. Not long after that house was filled to the brim with gyrating bodies, more liquor than a well-stocked bar and thumping dance music courtesy of Chris and his friend Bryan. Andy and his girlfriend showed up, too. After introducing her to his friends, Andy led her to a corner of the room where they proceeded to make out. Patrick did not intend to get totally wasted this night, but he saw Joe and Julianna grinding up on each other then Pete was placing a plastic cup of cold beer in his hand.

            “You’re gonna need this, man,” Pete gave him a look that was sympathy, pity and just a hint of it’s your own damn fault. “Come DJ with me. I’ll play some new jack swing for ya.” So Patrick sipped his beer while Pete put on the headphones and spun a mixture of pop, rock and rap with some Bell Biv DeVoe and Montell Jordan thrown in just because he knew it would make Patrick happy. By the time his first beer was gone, the kid was moving to the beat alongside Pete.

            “Dude, we have to put the band back together,” Patrick blurted out halfway through his second cup of alcohol. “That’s what I wanna do. I wanna play music and I wanna play it with you.” Pete grinned and draped his arm across the shorter boy’s shoulders, leaning close to talk in his ear over the booming Jay-Z song.

            “Me too,” Pete said decisively. During Patrick’s third beer, a girl came up to the DJ booth and asked if he wanted to dance. She was older, probably closer to Pete’s age than Patrick’s, with long, straight blonde-brown hair that was not a natural color. She was wearing a thin, low-cut tank top, mini-skirt and too much make-up, but she could be the distraction Patrick needed so he looked to Pete, who nodded his approval. The teenager took a last long swig of his beer then let the girl lead him to the crowded floor where she immediately began dancing up on him, moving her hips so their lower bodies rubbed together. Patrick followed her lead, allowing himself to get caught up in the rhythm of the music and the feeling of this girl moving against his body. His alcohol-hazed brain forgot about Julianna, Joe, the drama of teenage love and the band, only existing in this moment. Julianna danced alone, or as alone as she could be with the dozens of Pete’s friends and acquaintances gyrating all around her in the packed living room, while Joe left to get more beer. He had been gone too long, though, for just making a beer run, then she saw him near the DJ booth talking with Andy, Pete and Chris so she decided to just keep dancing. He wasn’t flirting with some girl – not that he was prone to stray – but no one had ever accused Julianna of being secure in her relationships. A familiar bobbing blonde head caught her attention among the swarm of bodies, and she recognized Patrick with an older, slutty-looking woman rubbing all over him. _What. The. Hell?_

            Maybe it was the beer in her system fogging up her senses or the fierce protectiveness they all felt toward him, but she was sure it was not jealousy stabbing at her gut, causing her to seethe at the sight of Patrick and this….slut. The girl was rail thin and leggy, probably three or four inches taller than Patrick, with her hands gripping his shoulders and his hands at her waist. Their hips and thighs bumped and grinded to the overwhelming bass, and he was smiling like he was actually enjoying himself. Another wave of anger curled through her stomach. Julianna stalked across the dance floor before even fully comprehending that she had no plan once she was standing in front of the dancing pair.

            “Patrick!” Julianna shouted over the music, placing her right hand on his side and allowing her face to open up with a wide smile. “Patrick! Dance with me!” The girl glared at Julianna, but Patrick just lifted one corner of his mouth apologetically and shrugged, allowing Julianna to practically mold herself to the front of his body. The other girl turned and walked off in a huff, but Patrick suddenly could not bring himself to care because the girl he wanted so fiercely had her hands in the air as her body moved against his to the beat of the 90s techno song. She was carefree and drunk, but so was he, and so they danced.

            The song switched to a slower ballad, and Patrick’s eyes went wide as they abruptly stopped moving and just stared at each other, the smiles falling off both their faces. He hated cliches, especially the one about the deer in the headlights, but he suddenly understood the feeling. For some reason, their drunk minds were okay with being all over each other during the fast songs, but slow dances were just too intimate and she was taken….by his best friend.

            “Come on,” Julianna was the first to act, holding her hand out palm up, “we’re friends, right? It’s not cheating to slow dance together, and Joe’s not the jealous type anyway.”

            “Yeah, we’re friends,” Patrick took her hand and pulled her closer, his hands finally settling on her waist as she draped her arms over his shoulders, her fingers close enough to touch the hair at the back of his neck but she didn’t. Instead, she just let him take the lead, a little clumsy because of the alcohol and his admitted uncoordination, but there was a charm to it as well. She knew he was uncomfortable doing this kind of thing, and yet here they were, physically as close as they could be without crossing that friendship boundary. He looked down at his feet to ensure he wasn’t stepping on hers, then raised his chin and grinned at her. Julianna felt a flutter in the general area of her heart and reached up to push a lock of his longish blonde hair out of his eyes. Patrick sucked in a breath at her affectionate gesture and tried to convince himself that she was just caught up in the moment; they were mentally impaired, dancing close at a New Year’s Eve party. When it really mattered, she had chosen Joe over him and that was a difficult reality to grasp.

            Julianna rested her head on Patrick’s shoulder as they swayed together to the music, neither one of them feeling the need to make conversation. She thought back to the first night they danced like this. They barely knew each other and were flying high from watching their friends play an awesome show. She had been slightly tipsy from her first beer, and she remembers falling asleep in his car then kissing him on the cheek under her porch light. She thought he was as into her as she was him, and she really thought he would ask her out the next day. He never did, and she didn’t know why. Then she began talking to Joe and he was so easy to like. She never had to wonder what he was feeling or thinking because he either said it or let his face and actions show it. She never had to drag conversation out of Joe because he always had something to say, and she liked his easy honesty. He had nothing to hide, and he let her know how he felt about her.

Suddenly, she raised her head to meet Patrick’s gaze, “How come you never asked me out?”


	12. Chapter Twelve

            Patrick felt sober in an instant. He wasn't, but neither was he drunk enough to handle that question and the curious, if slightly irritated, gorgeous brown eyes awaiting his response. He dropped his hands from her body as if she had suddenly become a burning flame and took a step back. Julianna's brow furrowed and he saw the slight beating of her pulse in the hollow of her throat. He knew his silence was very telling, and he cursed himself for anything he may or may not have done that either hurt her, made her doubt herself, or pushed her into Joe's arms. But it was too late for the truth; that he was a coward and she deserved so much better.

            "I don't know," Patrick shrugged, looking down at his feet.

            It would have hurt less if he had just punched her in the face.

            "You don't _know?!_ " Julianna spat back. "You're a coward, Patrick Stumph! I gave you every indication of how I felt about you. Hell, I let you into my space, shared my fears and dreams, things not even Joe knows, and you  _don't know?!_ It doesn't matter how great a musician you are if you can't take a chance or let people love you. You may get what you want in life, Patrick, but you're gonna walk off stage some night and realize you're alone because you're high on yourself!" She turned on her heel and stomped off to where Joe was now casually leaning against the DJ booth, sipping a beer and talking to Chris.

            "Dear god, what did you say to her, Trick?"

            Patrick whipped around to see Pete standing behind him in the middle of the crowded living room, holding out another cup full of beer. Patrick shook his head so Pete just shrugged and took a swig of the alcohol, licking a frothy mustache from his upper lip. Patrick opened and closed his mouth like he was trying to say something, but he just ended up looking like a goldfish searching for food. Pete knew that wrecked look on his young friend's face and did not miss Patrick wiping at his cheeks as he hung his head again. Lately, it seemed like every party involved some sort of Patrick/Julianna - and by default, Joe - drama, and Pete would spend half the night cleaning up the mess, usually talking Patrick down from his ledge. He wanted just one night, one amazing New Years Eve party, free of this shit, but obviously tonight was not the night.

            "Look, I'm sorry, Pete, go have fun. It's almost midnight, find a girl to kiss, I'll be fine," Patrick toed his beat-up Converse into the floor. As much as Pete really wanted to do just that, he knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself knowing Patrick was sulking alone.

            "Not a chance, little dude, you're gonna tell me what the hell happened, then we're  _both_ gonna find girls to kiss," Pete grabbed the sleeve of Patrick's denim jacket and dragged him up the stairs, pushing the teenager into his childhood bedroom. The hall at the top of the stairs and, most likely, every other bedroom had couples making out, but house rules were that Pete's bedroom was off limits to any sort of debauchery. Pete may have shoved a little harder than intended because Patrick stumbled over his feet into the room and grumbled, " _Fuck_ , Pete!" The guy needs a little roughing up, though, if it would make him realize what a true idiot he is.

            "Sit," Pete flipped the light on and pointed to the bed, his voice coming out sounding scarily like his mother's, and Patrick turned his head to glare over his shoulder but he obeyed like a petulant child. "What happened, Trick? What did you say that made her so pissed?"

            Patrick remained silent for several moments, his chin tucked to his chest as his fingers picked at the skin around his nails. Finally, he sighed and raised his head, "It's more about what I  _didn't_ say."

            "Ok, so tell me," Pete continued to prod, and Patrick recounted the events of the past half hour from his own perspective. " _God_ , Trick, good thing you're cute and I love you because you  _are_ an idiot."

            "Pete, that's not helping," Patrick grit out, annoyed but well aware that what his older friend said was true.

            "Sorry, man, look, you missed your first chance, obviously, but you're still young, too. It's not like Joe and Julianna are gonna get married, so either wait it out and don't screw up your second chance or you'll eventually forget about her and move on."

            "I can't, Pete," Patrick choked out, unsure of whether he was more sad or angry. "She's just as much a part of this group as any of us now, and she's always around. I see her at school, making out with Joe in my basement, sitting on his lap at the bowling alley. I need to, like, find new friends or something. But she's still my friend, too."

            "First of all, no, Trick, you don't need different friends, you just need less adolescent hormones," Pete ducked as a pillow grazed his head and hit the wall behind him. "Second, reign in that impulsive anger a little bit. I'm supposed to be the moody, belligerent one here."

            Patrick huffed and rearranged the hat on his head, pulling the gray wool cap lower over his forehead, his blonde bangs brushing his eyes. But he smirked too, if only slightly, "I think we should put the band back together. A creative or emotional outlet would help. Even if we don't go anywhere but my basement, I think you, Joe and I need it, you know?"

            "We will, though, man, we  _will_ get out of the basement." _  
_

 

            When Julianna walked - or rather, stalked - away from Patrick, she had made a beeline for Joe and grabbed his shirt to pull him in for a vigorous, tongue-heavy kiss. It vaguely registered that he had been talking to Chris and Andy was there too, but she didn't care about manners or public displays of affection - not when the alcohol was doing nothing to curb the rage and hurt constricting her throat. She was absolutely not going to cry in front of all these people, least of all Patrick. So she sank into the kiss, into Joe's warmth and strength. He tasted like beer and something sweet. After the initial shock of being all but attacked by his girlfriend's mouth, Joe's hands went to her shoulders then slid up through her hair to hold the back of her head as he slanted his lips over hers while her tongue delved into his mouth.

            "It's still an hour until midnight," Joe smirked, his bright blue eyes half-lidded but his brow creased with confusion, when she finally broke away for both of them to catch their breaths. "I mean, I'm not complaining but...."

            "Shut up," Julianna pressed her index finger to his moving lips and her other hand tugged at his shirt. "I'm ready, Joe. I want you. I'm ready."

            "What? I don't...." he shook his head slightly, gaze searching her face for the answer he maybe already knew but was not going to assume, especially with her in an inebriated state.

            Julianna let her hand smooth down his cheek to rest at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, her thumb gently rubbing circles on his thin cotton shirt, "Let's go to my house. My family is gone. I  _want_ you. I'm ready."

            "JT, no, you're drunk, I can't--,"

           "Joe," she firmly interrupted and pressed her body up against her boyfriend. She heard the negative words coming out of his mouth, but his body told he wanted it as much as she did. God, this guy was a saint! She was practically laying herself out for him, and he was still thinking more about her feelings than his own. But right now she wanted - needed - horny, spontaneous teenager Joe. She needed to let him know how much he actually meant to her, and if some of this Patrick-induced anger would subside, well, then that was a bonus.

            "Babe, I want this, too. More than you know," Joe reached out to smooth his thumb across the tense lines in her forehead, "but you're drunk and emotional. It's not right this way."

            "Please, Joe," it came out more whiny than she intended, but if it would help convince him, then screw her dignity right now, "I'm fine. You want it, I want it, I don't see the problem. Let's go." Her hand still fisted into the chest of his shirt continued to tug. He looked down into her glazed eyes - with lust or alcohol, he couldn't tell - and yes, he  _did_ want this. He wanted her and whatever part of herself she was willing to offer him. Even when they opened up to each other about personal things and feelings, he still got the impression that there were parts of herself she kept hidden from him and everyone else who loved her. And he did love her; he was sure of it even if they had never said the words to each other. He wanted to know all of her, and if this was going to bring intimacy to their relationship, then he was all in. _  
_

            "Come here," Joe pressed his lips sweetly to her forehead and grabbed her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short one for you, my beautiful readers. The next one will get a little steamy (just a warning, if that's not your thing) ;) Are Joe and Julianna meant to be? Will Patrick "get over" his crush, or is there a reason why he tends to bring out these emotions in Julianna?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I value your opinions and criticisms.
> 
> Peace,  
> ANS


End file.
